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.