| |
| FREE as the wandering pike am I, | |
| Many the strings to my amorous bow, | |
| More than a little inclined to fly | |
| Butterfly lovering, to and fro; | |
| Happy wherever the flowers blow, | 5 |
| With the dew on the leaf, and the sunshine above. | |
| Terribly wrong and unprincipled? No, | |
| Life is too short to be “dead in love!” | |
| |
| Not for me is the lover’s sigh; | |
| Fools are they, to be worrying so! | 10 |
| Sipping my fill of the honey I fly | |
| Butterfly lovering, to and fro. | |
| I skim the cream, and let all else go; | |
| Gather my roses, and give a shove | |
| Over my shoulder at dutiful woe,— | 15 |
| Life is too short to be “dead in love!” | |
| |
| So, while the fanciful hours go by, | |
| I gaily reap what the simpletons sow. | |
| Fresh with their bloom are the fruits I try, | |
| Butterfly lovering, to and fro. | 20 |
| Then here’s to the lady who wears her beau | |
| On and off, like a dainty glove! | |
| And here’s to the zephyrs that all-ways blow— | |
| Life is too short to be “dead in love!” | |
| |
ENVOY Prince, who cares for the coming snow, | 25 |
| Butterfly lovering, to and fro? | |
| Why should a man be a turtle-dove? | |
| Life is too short to be “dead in love!” | |
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