Claude McKay's Early Poetry (1911-1922): A Digital Collection


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 fiy, my pretty kite,
   Higher, ever higher;
Draw me with you to your height
   Out the earthly mire. 

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