Let There Be Kites Again

LET there be kites again —
Up, up, like wings
And boys running by,
Holding tight to the strings,
With their eyes to the sky. . . .
They will soon be men.

Let there be shouting now —
With wind and cloud
Racing over, and swift
Lean shadows, and proud
Young faces that lift
With light on the brow.

Let there be kites again —
Up, up, from the hill
Each spring of the year,
Over lands we till. . . .
There was wonder here
And we found it . . . then.