Where To Find Free Butterfly SVGS
For Cards, Earrings, Hair Bows, and More!
Note - this is a list of FREE svgs. However, some of the links may be affiliate links. That means if you purchase something after visiting that site, I may earn a small commission. It will in NO WAY effect the price you pay. The price stays the same whether you use my affiliate link or not..
Some of the free butterfly svgs available from
The Hello Butterfly Font -
With Butterfly font "tails"
With Butterfly font "tails"
And Another one, with "You Give Me Butterflies", here:
Semi Colon Butterfly - "The semicolon tattoo represents mental health struggles and the importance of suicide prevention."
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Projects
Tutorials, Ideas, & Inspiration
Tutorials, Ideas, & Inspiration
And another version of the butterfly earrings, from the same site:
A handprint butterfly kids craft
For More Free Hair Bow SVGS
Free Butterfly Pocket SVG
A Free Butterfly Favor Box SVG
Another Butterfly Card
No SVG (but plenty above that you can use!)
Just a project idea -
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NOT FREE
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A cake topper svg I made for my moms birthday
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Quick Links:
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To See All Of My Latest Free SVG Finds,
Join Cricut Tips, Tutorials, & Free SVGS
There you will find themed posts with all of the latest links in the comments
And you can share your projects, tutorials, and ask questions there too!
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An Irish Blessing
May the wings of the butterfly kiss the sun.
And find your shoulder to light on.
To bring you luck, happiness and riches.
Today, tomorrow and beyond.
Mariposa
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Butterflies are white and blue
In this field we wander through.
Suffer me to take your hand.
Death comes in a day or two.
All the things we ever knew
Will be ashes in that hour,
Mark the transient butterfly,
How he hangs upon the flower.
Suffer me to take your hand.
Suffer me to cherish you
Till the dawn is in the sky.
Whether I be false or true,
Death comes in a day or two.
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Ode to a butterfly
By Thomas Wentworth Higginson.
Thou spark of life that wavest wings of gold,
Thou songless wanderer mid the songful birds,
With Nature’s secrets in thy tints unrolled
Through gorgeous cipher, past the reach of words,
Yet dear to every child
In glad pursuit beguiled,
Living his unspoiled days mid flowers and flocks and herds!
Thou winged blossom, liberated thing,
What secret tie binds thee to other flowers,
Still held within the garden’s fostering?
Will they too soar with the completed hours,
Take flight, and be like thee
Irrevocably free,
Hovering at will o’er their parental bowers?
Or is thy lustre drawn from heavenly hues,
A sumptuous drifting fragment of the sky,
Caught when the sunset its last glance imbues
With sudden splendor, and the tree-tops high
Grasp that swift blazonry,
Then lend those tints to thee,
On thee to float a few short hours, and die?
Birds have their nests; they rear their eager young,
And flit on errands all the livelong day;
Each fieldmouse keeps the homestead whence it sprung;
But thou art Nature’s freeman,—free to stray Unfettered through the wood,
Seeking thine airy food,
The sweetness spiced on every blossomed spray.
The garden one wide banquet spreads for thee,
O daintiest reveller of the joyous earth!
One drop of honey gives satiety;
A second draught would drug thee past all mirth.
Thy feast no orgy shows;
Thy calm eyes never close,
Thou soberest sprite to which the sun gives birth.
And yet the soul of man upon thy wings
Forever soars in aspiration; thou
His emblem of the new career that springs
When death’s arrest bids all his spirit bow.
He seeks his hope in thee
Of immortality.
Symbol of life, me with such faith endow!
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The butterfly
By Alice Archer (Sewall) James
I am not what I was yesterday,
God knows my name.
I am made in a smooth and beautiful way,
And full of flame.
The color of corn are my pretty wings,
My flower is blue.
I kiss its topmost pearl, it swings
And I swing too.
I dance above the tawny grass
In the sunny air,
So tantalized to have to pass
Love everywhere
O Earth, O Sky, you are mine to roam
In liberty.
I am the soul and I have no home,
Take care of me.
For double I drift through a double world
Of spirit and sense;
I and my symbol together whirled
From who knows whence?
There ’s a tiny weed, God knows what good,—
It sits in the moss.
Its wings are heavy and spotted with blood
Across and across.
I sometimes settle a moment there,
And I am so sweet,
That what it lacks of the glad and fair
I fill complete.
The little white moon was once like me;
But her wings are one.
Or perhaps they closëd together be
As she swings in the sun.
When the clovers close their three green wings
Just as I do,
I creep to the primrose heart of things,
And close mine, too.
And then wide opens the candid night,
Serene and intense;
For she has, instead of love and light,
God’s confidence.
And I watch that other butterfly,
The one-winged moon,
Till, drunk with sweets in which I lie,
I dream and swoon.
And then when I to three days grow,
I find out pain.
For swift there comes an ache,—I know
That I am twain.
And nevermore can I be one
In liberty.
O Earth, O Sky, your use in done,
Take care of me.
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To a butterfly
Emily Dickinson
I’ve watched you now a full half-hour;
Self-poised upon that yellow flower
And, little Butterfly! indeed
I know not if you sleep or feed.
How motionless!–not frozen seas
More motionless! and then
What joy awaits you, when the breeze
Hath found you out among the trees,
And calls you forth again!
This plot of orchard-ground is ours;
My trees they are, my Sister’s flowers;
Here rest your wings when they are weary;
Here lodge as in a sanctuary!
Come often to us, fear no wrong;
Sit near us on the bough!
We’ll talk of sunshine and of song,
And summer days, when we were young;
Sweet childish days, that were as long
As twenty days are now.
Written in the orchard, Town-end, Grasmere.
Two butterflies went out at noon
Two butterflies went out at noon
And waltzed above a stream,
Then stepped straight through the firmament
And rested on a beam;
And then together bore away
Upon a shining sea,
Though never yet, in any port,
Their coming mentioned be.
If spoken by the distant bird,
If met in ether sea
By frigate or by merchantman,
Report was not to me.
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Blue-Butterfly Day
Robert Frost
It is blue-butterfly day here in spring,
And with these sky-flakes down in flurry on flurry
There is more unmixed color on the wing
Than flowers will show for days unless they hurry.
But these are flowers that fly and all but sing:
And now from having ridden out desire
They lie closed over in the wind and cling
Where wheels have freshly sliced the April mire.
These are beautiful. Thank you for sharing. I used to receive emails when you posted something new. That seems to have stopped in the last few months. I don't see a place to sign up for emails with the new look of your site. Is it still possible to get an email when you post something new? Thanks so much. Your site has been very helpful!
ReplyDeleteThank you for letting me know! I completely missed adding the email option back. It should be there now. :-)
DeleteThanks Heather! I did try to sign up again and I got a message that I'm already subscribed. Hopefully, that will kick the emails my way again. I appreciate the response!
ReplyDelete