Butterflies are white and blue br In this field we wander through. br Suffer me to take your hand. br Death comes in a day or two. br br All the things we ever knew br Will be ashes in that hour, br Mark the transient butterfly, br How he hangs upon the flower. br br Suffer me to take your hand. br Suffer me to cherish you br Till the dawn is in the sky. br Whether I be false or true, br Death comes in a day or two.br br Edna St.