  The sun had hardly taken flight Unto the deepest caves of night; Or fowls secured a place of rest Where Reynard's paw could not molest, When Brownies gathered to pursue Their plans regarding pleasures new. Said one: "In spite of hand or string, Now hats fly round like crows in spring, Exposing heads to gusts of air, That ill the slightest draught can bear; While, high above the tallest tower, At morning, noon, and evening hour, The youngsters' kites with streaming tails Are riding out the strongest gales. The doves in steeples hide away Or keep their houses through the day, Mistaking every kite that flies For bird of prey of wondrous size." "You're not alone," another cried, "In taking note. I, too, have spied The boys of late, in street and court, Or on the roofs, at this fine sport; But yesternight I chanced to see A kite entangled in a tree. The string was nowhere to be found; The tail about a bough was wound. Some birds had torn the paper out, To line their nests, in trees about, But there beside the wreck I staid, Until I learned how kites are made. On me you safely may depend, To show the way to cut and bend. So let us now, while winds are high, Our hands at once to work apply; And from the hill that lifts its crown So far above the neighboring town, We'll send our kites aloft in crowds, To lose themselves among the clouds." A smile on every face was spread, At thought of fun like this, ahead; And quickly all the plans were laid, And work for every Brownie made. Some to the kitchens ran in haste, To manufacture pots of paste. Some ran for tacks or shingle-nails, And some for rags to make the tails, While more with loads of paper came, Or whittled sticks to make the frame. The strings, that others gathered, soon Seemed long enough to reach the moon. But where such quantities they found, 'Tis not so easy to expound;— Perhaps some twine-shop, standing nigh, Was raided for the large supply; Perhaps some youthful angler whines About his missing fishing-lines. But let them find things where they will, The Brownies must be furnished still; And those who can't such losses stand, Will have to charge it to the Band. With busy fingers, well applied, They clipped and pasted, bent and tied; With paint and brush some ran about From kite to kite, to fit them out. On some they paint a visage fair, While others would affright a bear, Nor was it long (as one might guess Who knows what skill their hands possess) Before the kites, with string and tail, Were all prepared to ride the gale; And oh, the climax of their glee Was reached when kites were floating free! So quick they mounted through the air That tangling strings played mischief there, And threatened to remove from land Some valued members of the band. The birds of night were horrified At finding kites on every side, And netted strings, that seemed to be Designed to limit action free. But Brownies stood or ran about Now winding up, now letting out; Now giving kites more tail or wing, Now wishing for a longer string; Until they saw the hints of day Approaching through the morning gray. |
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