My heart is like a little bird That sits and sings for very gladness; Sometimes it chirps a feeble note, Sometimes it warbles wild with madness. It used to sing for one alone Its sweetest song, again, again, But now it has a sweeter still And sings within my breast,--in vain. Oh, little bird, sing not so loud, And close your pretty wings to rest, For never, never can you reach The cruel hand that wrung your nest. I would not for a queen's bright crown This little bird should die of sorrow; And so I keep it safe from harm, Within my breast, till some to-morrow Some wandering wind may waft it off Far from the reach of care or pain, To that blest land where birds are safe, And never may be caught again. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WIDOW MALONE by CHARLES JAMES LEVER THE SAILOR BOY by ALFRED TENNYSON THE MENU by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH SCHUBERT'S (UNFINISHED) SYMPHONY by FRANCES BARTLETT IN DER FREMDE by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES |