Hugo's "flower to butterfly"
Sweet, bide with me and let my love Be an enduring tether; Oh, wanton not from spot to spot, But let us dwell together.
You've come each morn to sip the sweets With which you found me dripping, Yet never knew it was not dew But tears that you were sipping.
You gambol over honey meads Where siren bees are humming; But mine the fate to watch and wait For my beloved's coming.
The sunshine that delights you now Shall fade to darkness gloomy; You should not fear if, biding here, You nestled closer to me.
So rest you, love, and be my love, That my enraptured blooming May fill your sight with tender light, Your wings with sweet perfuming.
Or, if you will not bide with me Upon this quiet heather, Oh, give me wing, thou beauteous thing, That we may soar together.