 | The child's book |  |
THE PRISONER BIRD.
There you are, in your cage,
Little prisoner, I see,
Looking wishfully forth,
At the birds on the tree.
Little prisoner, I see,
Looking wishfully forth,
At the birds on the tree.
Gazing out all the day,
On your friends as they fly,
With the song of the heart,
From the earth to the sky.
On your friends as they fly,
From the earth to the sky.
The gay butterflies,
And the beetles and bees,
Unfold their light pinions
And rove where they please.
And the beetles and bees,
Unfold their light pinions
And rove where they please.
But there you are shut,
With a close-folded wing,
And a pang at your breast,
Tho' you 're trying to sing.
With a close-folded wing,
And a pang at your breast,
Tho' you 're trying to sing.
Might I open your prison,
And bid you be free,
To build you a nest
On the bush or the tree;
And bid you be free,
To build you a nest
On the bush or the tree;
And see you enjoying
This bright summer day,
It would gladden my heart
As I go to my play.
This bright summer day,
It would gladden my heart
As I go to my play.
| The child's book | |