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Title: The Honest Bird
Author: Eliza Lee Cabot Follen [
More Titles by Follen]
Once on a time, a little bird
Within a wicker cage was heard,
In mournful tones, these words to sing:--
"In vain I stretch my useless wing;
Still round and round I vainly fly,
And strive in vain for liberty.
Dear liberty, how sweet thou art!"
The prisoner sings, with breaking heart:--
"All other things I'd give for thee,
Nor ask one joy but liberty."
He sang so sweet, a little mouse,
Who often ran about the house,
Came to his cage; her cunning ear
She turned, the mournful bird to hear.
Soon as he ceased,--"Suppose," said she,
"I could contrive to set you free;
Would you those pretty wings give me?"
The cage was in the window-seat,
The sky was blue, the air was sweet.
The bird with eagerness replied,--
"O, yes! my wings, and see, beside,
These seeds and apples, sugar, too,
All, pretty mouse, I'll give to you,
If you will only set me free;
For, O, I pant for liberty!"
The mouse soon gnawed a hole; the bird,
In ecstasy, forgot his word;
Swift as an arrow, see, he flies,
Far up, far up, towards the skies;
But see, he stops, now he descends,
Towards the cage his course he bends.
"Kind mouse," said he, "behold me now
Returned to keep my foolish vow;
I only longed for freedom then,
Nor thought to want my wings again.
Better with life itself to part,
Than, living, have a faithless heart;
Do with me, therefore, as you will,
An honest bird I will be still."
His heart seemed full, no more he said,
He drooped his wings and hung his head.
The mouse, though very pert and smart,
Had yet a very tender heart;
She minced a little, twirled about,
Then thus her sentiments threw out:--
"I don't care much about your wings,--
Apples and cakes are better things;
You love the clouds, I choose the house;
Wings would look queer upon a mouse.
My nice long tail is better far,
So keep your wings just where they are."
She munched some apple, gave a smack,
And ran into her little crack.
The bird spread out his wings and flew,
And vanished in the sky's deep blue;
Far up his joyful song he poured,
And sang of freedom as he soared.
[The end]
Eliza Lee Follen's poem: Honest Bird
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