The Release

To-day within a grog-shop near      I saw a newly captured linnet,      Who beat against his cage in fear,      And fell exhausted every minute;      And when I asked the fellow there      If he to sell the bird were willing,      He told me with a careless air      That I could have it for a shilling.      And so I bought it, cage and all      (Although I went without my dinner),      And where some trees were fairly tall      And houses shrank and smoke was thinner,      The tiny door I open threw,      As down upon the grass I sank me:      Poor little chap! How quick he flew . . .      He didn't even wait to thank me.      Life's like a cage; we beat the bars,      We bruise our breasts, we struggle vainly;      Up to the glory of the stars      We strain with flutterings ungainly.      And then - God opens wide the door;      Our wondrous wings are arched for flying;      We poise, we part, we sing, we soar . . .      Light, freedom, love. . . . Fools call it - Dying.