 | Poems by Miss H. F. Gould |  |
93
THE BIRD UNCAGED.
She opened the cage, and away there flew
A bright little bird, as a short adieu
It hastily whistled, and passed the door,
And felt that its sorrowful hours were o'er.
A bright little bird, as a short adieu
It hastily whistled, and passed the door,
And felt that its sorrowful hours were o'er.
An anthem of freedom it seemed to sing;
To utter its joy for an outspread wing,—
That now it could sport in the boundless air,
And might go any and every where.
To utter its joy for an outspread wing,—
That now it could sport in the boundless air,
And might go any and every where.
And Anna rejoiced in her bird's delight;
But her eye was wet, as she marked its flight;
Till, this was the song that she seemed to hear;
And, merrily warbled, it dried the tear:
But her eye was wet, as she marked its flight;
Till, this was the song that she seemed to hear;
And, merrily warbled, it dried the tear:
“I had a mistress, and she was kind,
In all, but keeping her bird confined;
She ministered food and drink to me,
But, O I was pining for liberty!
In all, but keeping her bird confined;
She ministered food and drink to me,
But, O I was pining for liberty!
“My fluttering bosom she loved to smooth;
While the heart within it, she could not soothe:
I sickened and longed for the wildwood breeze,
My feathery kindred, and fresh green trees.
While the heart within it, she could not soothe:
I sickened and longed for the wildwood breeze,
My feathery kindred, and fresh green trees.
“A prisoner there, with a useless wing,
I looked with sorrow on every thing;
I lost my voice, and forgot my song,
And mourned in silence, the whole day long.
I looked with sorrow on every thing;
94
And mourned in silence, the whole day long.
“But I will go back, with a mellower pipe,
And sing, when the cherries are round and ripe;
On the topmost bough, as I lock my feet,
To help myself, in my leafy seat.
And sing, when the cherries are round and ripe;
On the topmost bough, as I lock my feet,
To help myself, in my leafy seat.
“My merriest notes shall there be heard,
To draw her eye to her franchised bird;
The burden, then, of my song shall be,
‘Earth for the wingless! but air for me!’”
To draw her eye to her franchised bird;
The burden, then, of my song shall be,
‘Earth for the wingless! but air for me!’”
| Poems by Miss H. F. Gould | |