Читать книгу The Liberty Minstrel - George Washington Clark - Страница 7

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BY ELIZA LEE FOLLEN.

I wish I was that little bird,

Up in the bright blue sky;

That sings and flies just where he will,

And no one asks him why.

I wish I was that little brook,

That runs so swift along;

Through pretty flowers and shining stones,

Singing a merry song.

I wish I was that butterfly,

Without a thought or care;

Sporting my pretty, brilliant wings,

Like a flower in the air.

I wish I was that wild, wild deer,

I saw the other day;

Who swifter than an arrow flew,

Through the forest far away.

I wish I was that little cloud,

By the gentle south wind driven;

Floating along, so free and bright,

Far, far up into heaven.

I'd rather be a cunning fox,

And hide me in a cave;

I'd rather be a savage wolf,

Than what I am—a slave.

My mother calls me her good boy,

My father calls me brave;

What wicked action have I done,

That I should be a slave.

I saw my little sister sold,

So will they do to me;

My Heavenly Father, let me die,

For then I shall be free.