The Poetry Corner

The Caged Thrush

By Robert Fuller Murray

Alas for the bird who was born to sing! They have made him a cage; they have clipped his wing; They have shut him up in a dingy street, And they praise his singing and call it sweet. But his heart and his song are saddened and filled With the woods, and the nest he never will build, And the wild young dawn coming into the tree, And the mate that never his mate will be. And day by day, when his notes are heard They freshen the street--but alas for the bird