  Ring-ting! I wish I were a Primrose, A bright yellow Primrose blowing in the Spring! The stooping boughs above me, The wandering bee to love me, The fern and moss to creep across, And the Elm-tree for our king! flowers Nay—stay! I wish I were an Elm-tree, A great lofty Elm-tree, with green leaves gay! The winds would set them dancing, The sun and moonshine glancing, The Birds would house among the boughs, And sweetly sing! flying birds O—no! I wish I were a Robin, A Robin or a little Wren, everywhere to go; Through forest, field, or garden, And ask no leave or pardon, Till Winter comes with icy thumbs Well—tell! Where should I fly to, Where go to sleep in the dark wood or dell? Before a day was over, Home comes the rover, For Mother's kiss,—sweeter this Than any other thing! |
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