The greenhouse is my summer seat; <br />My shrubs displaced from that retreat <br />Enjoy’d the open air; <br />Two goldfinches, whose sprightly song <br />Had been their mutual solace long, <br />Lived happy prisoners there. <br />They sang as blithe as finches sing, <br />That flutter loose on golden wing, <br />And frolic where they list; <br />Strangers to liberty, ‘tis true, <br />But that delight they never knew, <br />And therefore never miss’d. <br />But nature works in every breast, <br />With force not easily suppress’d; <br />And Dick felt some desires, <br />That, after many an effort vain, <br />Instructed him at length to gain <br />A pass between his wires. <br />The open windows seem’d to invite <br />The freeman to a farewell flight; <br />But Tom was still confined; <br />And Dick, although his way was clear, <br />Was much too generous and sincere <br />To leave his friend behind. <br />So settling on his cage, by play, <br />And chirp, and kiss, he seem’d to say, <br />You must not live alone— <br />Nor would he quit that chosen stand <br />Till I, with slow and cautious hand, <br />Return’d him to his own. <br />O ye, who never taste the joys <br />Of Friendship, satisfied with noise <br />Fandango, ball, and rout! <br />Blush when I tell you how a bird <br />A prison with a friend preferr’d <br />To liberty without.<br /><br />William Cowper<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-faithful-bird/
