Ring ting! I wish I were a Primrose,
A bright yellow Primrose, blowing in the spring!
The stooping bough above me,
The wandering bee to love me,
The fern and moss to creep across,
And the Elm-tree for our king!
Nay, stay! I wish I were an Elm-tree,
A great lofty Elm-tree, with green leaves gay!
The winds would set them dancing,
The sun and moonshine glance in,
And birds would house among the boughs,
And sweetly sing.
Oh, no! I wish I were a Robin,
A Robin, or a little Wren, everywhere to go,
Through forest, field or garden,
And ask no leave or pardon,
Till winder comes with icy thumbs
To ruffle up our wing!
Well, tell! where should I fly to,
Where to sleep, in the dark wood or dell?
Before the day was over,
Home must come the rover,
For mother's kiss, sweeter this
Than any other thing.
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