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Famous Short Butterfly Poems

Famous Short Butterfly Poems. Short Butterfly Poetry by Famous Poets. A collection of the all-time best Butterfly short poems

by Muhammad Ali 
I float like a butterfly, sting like a bee

by Spike Milligan 
 I cannot 
and I will not 
No, I cannot love you less 
Like the flower to the butterfly 
The corsage to the dress 

She turns my love to dust 
my destination empty 
my beliefs scattered: Diaspora! 

Who set this course - and why? 
Now my wings beat - 
without purpose 
Yet they speed.
.
.
by Robert Frost 
 It is blue-butterfly day here in spring,
And with these sky-flakes down in flurry on flurry
There is more unmixed color on the wing
Than flowers will show for days unless they hurry.


But these are flowers that fly and all but sing:
And now from having ridden out desire
They lie closed over in the wind and cling
Where wheels have freshly sliced the April mire.
by Matsuo Basho 
 A caterpillar,
this deep in fall--
 still not a butterfly.
by Emily Dickinson 
A little road not made of man,
Enabled of the eye,
Accessible to thill of bee,
Or cart of butterfly.


If town it have, beyond itself,
'T is that I cannot say;
I only sigh,--no vehicle
Bears me along that way.

by Emily Dickinson 
 The Butterfly upon the Sky,
That doesn't know its Name
And hasn't any tax to pay
And hasn't any Home
Is just as high as you and I,
And higher, I believe,
So soar away and never sigh
And that's the way to grieve --
by Oscar Wilde 
 An omnibus across the bridge
Crawls like a yellow butterfly
And, here and there, a passer-by
Shows like a little restless midge.


Big barges full of yellow hay
Are moored against the shadowy wharf,
And, like a yellow silken scarf,
The thick fog hangs along the quay.


The yellow leaves begin to fade
And flutter from the Temple elms,
And at my feet the pale green Thames
Lies like a rod of rippled jade.
by Robert Frost 
 Why make so much of fragmentary blue
In here and there a bird, or butterfly,
Or flower, or wearing-stone, or open eye,
When heaven presents in sheets the solid hue?

Since earth is earth, perhaps, not heaven (as yet)--
Though some savants make earth include the sky;
And blue so far above us comes so high,
It only gives our wish for blue a whet.
by Li Po 
 Chuang Tzu in dream became a butterfly,
And the butterfly became Chuang Tzu at waking.

Which was the real—the butterfly or the man ?
Who can tell the end of the endless changes of things?
The water that flows into the depth of the distant sea
Returns anon to the shallows of a transparent stream.

The man, raising melons outside the green gate of the city,
Was once the Prince of the East Hill.

So must rank and riches vanish.

You know it, still you toil and toil,—what for?
by Katherine Mansfield 
 In the middle of our porridge plates
There was a blue butterfly painted
And each morning we tried who should reach the
butterfly first.

Then the Grandmother said: "Do not eat the poor
butterfly.
"
That made us laugh.

Always she said it and always it started us laughing.

It seemed such a sweet little joke.

I was certain that one fine morning
The butterfly would fly out of our plates,
Laughing the teeniest laugh in the world,
And perch on the Grandmother's lap.
by Emily Dickinson 
 The butterfly obtains
But little sympathy
Though favorably mentioned
In Entomology --

Because he travels freely
And wears a proper coat
The circumspect are certain
That he is dissolute --

Had he the homely scutcheon
Of modest Industry
'Twere fitter certifying
For Immortality --
by William Butler Yeats 
 This great purple butterfly,
In the prison of my hands,
Has a learning in his eye
Not a poor fool understands.


Once he lived a schoolmaster
With a stark, denying look;
A string of scholars went in fear
Of his great birch and his great book.


Like the clangour of a bell,
Sweet and harsh, harsh and sweet.

That is how he learnt so well
To take the roses for his meat.
by Louise Gluck 
 Look, a butterfly.
 Did you make a wish?

You don't wish on butterflies.


You do so.
 Did you make one?

Yes.


It doesn't count.
by Emily Dickinson 
 Bloom -- is Result -- to meet a Flower
And casually glance
Would scarcely cause one to suspect
The minor Circumstance

Assisting in the Bright Affair
So intricately done
Then offered as a Butterfly
To the Meridian --

To pack the Bud -- oppose the Worm --
Obtain its right of Dew --
Adjust the Heat -- elude the Wind --
Escape the prowling Bee

Great Nature not to disappoint
Awaiting Her that Day --
To be a Flower, is profound
Responsibility --
by Emily Dickinson 
 Cocoon above! Cocoon below!
Stealthy Cocoon, why hide you so
What all the world suspect?
An hour, and gay on every tree
Your secret, perched in ecstasy
Defies imprisonment!

An hour in Chrysalis to pass,
Then gay above receding grass
A Butterfly to go!
A moment to interrogate,
Then wiser than a "Surrogate,"
The Universe to know!
by Emily Dickinson 
 Go not too near a House of Rose --
The depredation of a Breeze --
Or inundation of a Dew
Alarms its walls away --

Nor try to tie the Butterfly,
Nor climb the Bars of Ecstasy,
In insecurity to lie
Is Joy's insuring quality.
by Emily Dickinson 
 A little Road -- not made of Man --
Enabled of the Eye --
Accessible to Thill of Bee --
Or Cart of Butterfly --

If Town it have -- beyond itself --
'Tis that -- I cannot say --
I only know -- no Curricle that rumble there
Bear Me --
by Emily Dickinson 
 Defrauded I a Butterfly --
The lawful Heir -- for Thee --
by Emily Dickinson 
 A science -- so the Savants say,
"Comparative Anatomy" --
By which a single bone --
Is made a secret to unfold
Of some rare tenant of the mold,
Else perished in the stone --

So to the eye prospective led,
This meekest flower of the mead
Upon a winter's day,
Stands representative in gold
Of Rose and Lily, manifold,
And countless Butterfly!
by Emily Dickinson 
 My Cocoon tightens -- Colors tease --
I'm feeling for the Air --
A dim capacity for Wings
Demeans the Dress I wear --

A power of Butterfly must be --
The Aptitude to fly
Meadows of Majesty implies
And easy Sweeps of Sky --

So I must baffle at the Hint
And cipher at the Sign
And make much blunder, if at least
I take the clue divine --
by Emily Dickinson 
 The Butterfly in honored Dust
Assuredly will lie
But none will pass the Catacomb
So chastened as the Fly --
by Emily Dickinson 
 'Twould ease -- a Butterfly --
Elate -- a Bee --
Thou'rt neither --
Neither -- thy capacity --

But, Blossom, were I,
I would rather be
Thy moment
Than a Bee's Eternity --

Content of fading
Is enough for me --
Fade I unto Divinity --

And Dying -- Lifetime --
Ample as the Eye --
Her least attention raise on me --
by Emily Dickinson 
 When Diamonds are a Legend,
And Diadems -- a Tale --
I Brooch and Earrings for Myself,
Do sow, and Raise for sale --

And tho' I'm scarce accounted,
My Art, a Summer Day -- had Patrons --
Once -- it was a Queen --
And once -- a Butterfly --
by Emily Dickinson 
 A soft Sea washed around the House
A Sea of Summer Air
And rose and fell the magic Planks
That sailed without a care --
For Captain was the Butterfly
For Helmsman was the Bee
And an entire universe
For the delighted crew.
by James Wright 
 Over my head, I see the bronze butterfly,
Asleep on the black trunk,
blowing like a leaf in green shadow.

Down the ravine behind the empty house,
The cowbells follow one another
Into the distances of the afternoon.

To my right,
In a field of sunlight between two pines,
The droppings of last year's horses
Blaze up into golden stones.

I lean back, as the evening darkens and comes on.

A chicken hawk floats over, looking for home.

I have wasted my life.

Book: Reflection on the Important Things