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Paul Laurence Dunbar - Sympathy
Work rating: High

	I know what the caged bird feels, alas!
	When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;
	When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,
	And the river flows like a stream of glass;
	When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,
	And the faint perfume from its chalice steals—
	I know what the caged bird feels!

	I know why the caged bird beats his wing
	Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;
	For he must fly back to his perch and cling
	When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;
	And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars
	And they pulse again with a keener sting—
	I know why he beats his wing!

	I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
	When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,—
	When he beats his bars and he would be free;
	It is not a carol of joy or glee,
	But a prayer that he sends from his heart`s deep core,
	But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings—
	I know why the caged bird sings!
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