Poem By Mary Dow Brine
Creatures of golden, sunshiny weather,
Coquetting with blossoms for hours together!
Happiest ever when skies are blue,
And sunshine your merriest moments woo!
Bright-robed and beautiful, artless and gay,
Merrily idling the summer away.
Much ye remind me, butterflies bright,
Of a winsome maiden, with heart as light
And fickle as yours, as the days go by;
Fit for only a sunshiny sky!
Coquetting with hearts and love awhile,
Then off and away with a careless smile.
But when the summer at last has fled,
Butterflies' holiday, too, lies dead.