TIME was when I was free as air, The thistle's downy seed my fare, My drink the morning dew; I perched at will on every spray, My form genteel, my plumage gay, My strains for ever new. But gaudy plumage, sprightly strain, And form genteel were all in vain, And of a transient date; [death, For, caught and caged, and starved to In dying sighs my little breath Soon passed the wiry grate. Thanks, gentle swain, for all my woes, And thanks for this effectual close And cure of every ill! More cruelty could none express; And I, if you had shown me less, Had been your prisoner still. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ESTRANGEMENT by WILLIAM WATSON SOUL AND BODY by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE AUTUMN by JESSIE ALBERT BARNEY THE DIFFERENCE by ANGELO PHILIP BERTOCCI PETITION (1) by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE SANDY STAR: 4. THE WAY by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE THE WEDDING FEAST: 2 by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH |