WILD birds fly over me. I am not the blue curtain overhead, I am the one who lives under the sky. I swing to the tree-tops, I pick strawberries, I sing and play, And happiness makes me like a great god On the earth. It makes me think of great things A little girl like me Could not know of. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE by CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE THE GOLDEN AGE by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN MEMORY'S VISIT by DEAN ALETTA BAILLIE THE CRACKED BELL by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE NOS IMMORTALES by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET MY BATH by JOHN STUART BLACKIE |