Moral songs :: :: University of Virginia Library

“I wish I was a lamb, sister,”
The little brother cried,
“It plays amid the daisy flowers,
Along the meadows wide;
It plays all day so merrily,
And all the summer night
It lies down in the buttercups
Under the sweet moonlight.”

“I would not be a lamb, my dear,”
The gentle sister answered near,
“Perhaps some day, the butcher's knife
Will take away his merry life.”

“I wish I was a butterfly,
Then, sporting all the day;
With spotted wings so beautiful,
Out in the warm sun ray.

He flies to all the fairest flowers,
And tastes their honey sweet,
I cannot follow half so fast,
Upon my little feet.”

“His life is very short, my dear,”
She says with voice so soft, and clear,
“When one short summer's day is o'er,
The butterfly will sport no more.”

“Then I would be a lark, sister,
Upon his soft brown wings,
He soars into the breaking clouds,
And there he hangs, and sings.
He soars, until he seems to float,
A speck before my eye;
It must be sure a glorious thing,
To be so very high.”

Again she answers; “Once, my dear,
When breaking day did just appear,
A hungry kite with cruel claw,
Killing a little lark, I saw.”

“Then what would you be, sister,
Would you not like to rise,
And warble with the sweet skylark,
Or play like butterflies?”
She says in the same quiet tone,
“I would be what I am,
I'm quite content, nor wish to change,
With bird, or fly, or lamb.

“Our happiest, fittest state, my dear,
Be sure is that we're given here,
And boy, or girl, we're better far,
Just where we're set, and as we are.”