by Barbara J Laing
Oh, poor, innocent captive bird
How my heart aches for thee -
How I wish thou couldst spread thy wings
And, in thy innocence, fly free!
O’er woods and meadows, lakes and fells
Singing out thy joyous song -
To be imprisoned in this way
Is so hideous and wrong.
Maybe, little plaintive bird,
Whence from Life thou hast passed away,
O’er Elysian fields shalt thy spirit soar
And, in freedom, fly each day
Sailing upon the buoyant winds -
Gently buffeting thy frame
Wherein soft whispers shall be heard
Of Angels calling thee by name
Until such time sweet, gentle bird,
Fate has deemed thee thy time to spend
Behind these bars that mock thy wings
From dawn ‘til twilight’s end.
Barbara J Laing
Last updated April 30, 2015