Poems (Trask)/The Child's Wishes
THE CHILD'S WISHES.
Oh, if I were a robin, With breast of crimson red, And black and shiny feathers On my bonny, roguish head, So high above the tree-tops, Dear mother, I could fly, You'd almost think me sailing up To visit yonder sky.
Oh, if I were the south-wind, That sings so soft and deep, And scampers down the hillside Among the flocks of sheep, I'd fan the little lambkins Through every sultry day, And make the sweet white clover Bloom for them all the way.
Oh, if I were the streamlet Down in the mossy dell, I'd sing the whole time gently To the listening lily-bell,—I'd water thirsty meadows, And verdant make the grass, And all the little sleepy flowers Would laugh to see me pass.
Oh, if I were a daisy In some shady wayside nook, Where the pretty village maidens Would pause on me to look, I'd charm them with my fragrance Of half their gentle love, With my eyes so bright and starry Lifted unto heaven above.
But if I were a robin, Or the south-wind, soft and low, Or the little gliding streamlet, Or a modest daisy blow, Mother, I could not slumber Upon your snowy breast; Your kisses would not soothe me In the night-time into rest.
So I'd rather be your darling Than anything on earth,—I'm happy as the happiest thing That ever had a birth! I'd not be bird or streamlet, South-wind or daisy pearl; But let me stay here, mother dear, And be your little girl.