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,—
Life is too short to be “dead in love!”
So, while the fanciful hours go by,
I gayly reap what the simpletons sow.
Fresh with their bloom are the fruits I try,
Butterfly lovering, to and fro.
Then here’s to the lady who wears her beau