Butterfly, butterfly, where are you going?
'Over the roses into the sky.'
Butterfly, butterfly, there is no knowing
When you'll come back again, so good-bye!
I BE hopin' you remember,
Now the Spring has come again,
How we used to gather violets
By the Uttle church at Eastnor,
The Malvern Hills
The Malvern Hills be green some days.
And some days purple-blue,
There never was the like of them
The whole of England through.
The First Cuckoo
To-day I heard the cuckoo call.
Atop of Bredon Hill,
I heard him near the blackthorn bush,
And Oh ! my heart stood still !
Dusk In The Lane
Come, put yer little hand in mine.
And let it be at rest.
It minds me of a tired bird
Within a warm brown nest ;
The Meeting Place
I MIND me of the hawthorn trees,
With cuckoos flying near ;
The hawthorn blossoms smelt so sweet,
The cuckoo called so clear !