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Dinah Maria Mulock - The Canary In His Cage
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SING away, ay, sing away, 
Merry little bird, 
Always gayest of the gay, 
Though a woodland roundelay 
You ne`er sung nor heard; 
Though your life from youth to age 
Passes in a narrow cage. 

Near the window wild birds fly, 
Trees are waving round: 
Fair things everywhere you spy 
Through the glass pane`s mystery, 
Your small life`s small bound: 
Nothing hinders your desire 
But a little gilded wire. 

Like a human soul you seem 
Shut in golden bars: 
Placed amidst earth`s sunshine-stream, 
Singing to the morning beam, 
Dreaming `neath the stars: 
Seeing all life`s pleasures clear,-- 
But they never can come near. 

Never! Sing, bird-poet mine, 
As most poets do;-- 
Guessing by an instinct fine 
At some happiness divine 
Which they never knew. 
Lonely in a prison bright 
Hymning for the world`s delight. 

Yet, my birdie, you`re content 
In your tiny cage: 
Not a carol thence is sent 
But for happiness is meant-- 
Wisdom pure as sage: 
Teaching, the true poet`s part 
Is to sing with merry heart. 

So, lie down thou peevish pen, 
Eyes, shake off all tears; 
And my wee bird, sing again: 
I`ll translate your song to men 
In these future years. 
"Howsoe`er thy lot`s assigned, 
Bear it with a cheerful mind."
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