The Release

 To-day within a grog-shop near
I saw a newly captured linnet,
Who beat against his cage in fear,
And fell exhausted every minute;
And when I asked the fellow there
If he to sell the bird were willing,
He told me with a careless air
That I could have it for a shilling.


And so I bought it, cage and all
(Although I went without my dinner),
And where some trees were fairly tall
And houses shrank and smoke was thinner,
The tiny door I open threw,
As down upon the grass I sank me:
Poor little chap! How quick he flew .
 .
 .

He didn't even wait to thank me.


Life's like a cage; we beat the bars,
We bruise our breasts, we struggle vainly;
Up to the glory of the stars
We strain with flutterings ungainly.

And then -- God opens wide the door;
Our wondrous wings are arched for flying;
We poise, we part, we sing, we soar .
 .
 .

Light, freedom, love.
 .
 .
 .
 Fools call it -- Dying.

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