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