Page:Poems for Children Sigourney 1836.pdf/21

 

The bright butterflies, And the beetles and bees, Spread forth their light wings, And sport where they please.

But there you sit With a folded wing, And a broken heart, Tho' you try to sing.

Might I open your prison And bid you go, And build a nest As you us'd to do,—

And see you soar With a sparkling eye, Abroad through the meadows So joyfully,—

And hear you pouring The song of the free,— 'T would be a great pleasure Sweet bird! to me. 