O look at my kite,
Almost out of sight ;
How pretty it flies,
Right up to the skies.
Pretty kite, pretty kite,
Almost out of sight,
=> - Pray, what do you spy
a m | In the bright blue sky?

   
  
   
   
  
 
 

 

John White flew his kite one very windy day,
Whena gale broke the tail, and it soon flew away-

And while he sat crying and sighing and sad,
| Charley Gray came that way, good-natured
| Jad.

| “Don'tery, wipe your eye,” said he, “little Jack ,
|| Stay here, never fear, and Ill soon bring it back.’
Up the tree climbed he, and brought the kite
|

down ;
“Many thanks, many thanks,” said dear little

| John.