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...THE NIGHT MOTHS by EDWIN MARKHAM DOMESDAY BOOK: REV. PERCY FERGUSON by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TREKKING THE HILLS OF NORTHERN THAILAND by KAREN SWENSON FAREWELL TO LOVE by JOHN DONNE THE FARM CHILD'S LULLABY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR IN THE MILE END ROAD by AMY LEVY A LONDON FETE by COVENTRY KERSEY DIGHTON PATMORE |