Songs of Jamaica (1912)
Kite-Flying
HIGHER fly, my pretty kite,
Over distant towers;
Paper-made, red, blue an’ white,
All my fav’rite colours.[1]
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[2] 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[3] I send along,
Lee round papers of bright red;
Up they go to swell you’ song,
Climbin’ on the slimber[4] t’read.
Higher fiy, my pretty kite,
Higher, ever higher;
Draw me with you to your height
Out the earthly mire.