 | Poems |  |
27
SONNET
TO A CANARY-BIRD, TRAINED TO DRAW SEED AND WATER FROM A GLASS-WELL SUSPENDED TO ITS CAGE.
Thou should'st be carolling thy Maker's praise,Poor bird! now fettered, and here set to draw,
With graceless toil of beak and added claw,
The meagre food that scarce thy want allays!
And this—to gratify the gloating gaze
Of fools, who value Nature not a straw,
But know to prize the infraction of her law
And hard perversion of her creature's ways!
Thee the wild woods await, in leaves attired,
Where notes of liquid utterance should engage
Thy bill, that now with pain scant forage earns;
So art thou like that bard who, God-inspired
To charm the world with song, was set to gauge
Beer-barrels for his bread—half-famish'd Burns!
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