SING away, ay, sing away, Merry little bird, Always gayest of the gay, Though a woodland roundelay You ne'er sung nor heard; Though your life from youth to age Passes in a narrow cage. Near the window wild birds fly, Trees are waving round: Fair things everywhere you spy Through the glass pane's mystery, Your small life's small bound: Nothing hinders your desire But a little gilded wire. Like a human soul you seem Shut in golden bars: Placed amidst earth's sunshine-stream, Singing to the morning beam, Dreaming 'neath the stars: Seeing all life's pleasures clear, -- But they never can come near. Never! Sing, bird-poet mine, As most poets do; -- Guessing by an instinct fine At some happiness divine Which they never knew. Lonely in a prison bright Hymning for the world's delight. Yet, my birdie, you're content In your tiny cage: Not a carol thence is sent But for happiness is meant -- Wisdom pure as sage: Teaching, the true poet's part Is to sing with merry heart. So, lie down thou peevish pen, Eyes, shake off all tears; And my wee bird, sing again: I'll translate your song to men In these future years. "Howsoe'er thy lot's assigned, Bear it with a cheerful mind." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RED TURTLENECK by KAREN SWENSON THE INQUEST by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES LOVERS HOW THEY COME AND PART by ROBERT HERRICK SOUND THE LOUD TIMBREL; MIRIAM'S SONG by THOMAS MOORE FAREWELL TO ARMS by GEORGE PEELE |