Float through the mind like flowers

On summer days the cliff at Weybourne sang
Of finest grass entwined with tiny flowers
The butterflies were floating on the wind

We walked along contented, hand in hand
In Sheringham we saw no faces dour
On summer days, the cliffs at Weybourne sang

We met no wasps nor any life that stings
The footpath was kept clear, no weeds to sour
The butterflies were sleeping on the wind

I look at bluebells,insects hear their ring
So we passed with pleasure our free hours
On summer days, the cliffs at Weybourne sang

For this perfection Adam rightly sinned
No human joy is with us very long
The butterflies were resting on the wind

In winter Norfolk winds will make beasts cower
No need for ventilation,faces glower
On summer days the air at Weybourne sang
The butterflies float through my mind, bright, winged.