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...FLUTE-PRIEST SONG FOR RAIN; CEREMONIAL AT THE SUN SPRING by AMY LOWELL BRICKLAYER LOVE by CARL SANDBURG AMERICA TO GREAT BRITAIN by WASHINGTON ALLSTON LIFE [AND DEATH] by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE KINGFISHER by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES |