HAVE a little butterfly in your heart?
Amidst a tiny garden of loving grace,
Where the angels never part -
And light shines upon thy face?

And the river of that garden shall flow -
Until the dying swans sing,
When the world is shattered with reddened glow.
Then - our love shall be their wing.

Have a little butterfly out in March?
Fluttering over the river's overflow?
Where the flowers never parch -
Far from the days we know.

And later in August we may lay,
Within the meadows of life -
Where thou is my summer's day,
And I remain the river's wife.