Kite-Flying

Higher fly, my pretty kite, over distant towers; paper-made, red, blue an’ white. all my fav’rite colours. As up an’ up an’ up you mount on your way to heaven, thoughts come, which I cannot count, of the times I’ve striven Just to soar away like you, rising to a happier sphere deep within yon skies of blue far from all de strife an’ care You have got you’ singer on, let me hear your singing, hear you’ pleasant bee-like tone on de breezes ringing Wider dash your streamin’ tail keep it still a-dancin’! as across de ditch you sail, by the tree-tops glancin’. Messengers I send along, lee round papers of bright red; up they go to swell you’ song, climbin’ on the slimber t’ read. Higher fly, my pretty kite, higher, ever higher; draw me with you to your height out the earthly mire.