Poetry Archives

I opened the cage of my pet canary;
Timid, it faltered a moment there,
Then, at my call, became less wary,
And blithely sprang to the buoyant air.

Brief was its dream of freedom’s rapture;
A window barred its sunward flight;
It beat its wings in fear of capture,
But found no way to the world of light.

Out in the park two birds were mating,
Building together their tiny nest;
Keenly the captive watched them, waiting,
Pressing the glass with its throbbing breast.

Leaving at length the window-casing,
Lighting by chance on a neighboring shelf,
It stood before a mirror, facing
The pretty form of its own sweet self.

Falling in love with its own reflection,
Thinking it always another bird,
Bravely it tried to win affection,
Warbling tones I had never heard.

Hopeless alas! its tender wooing,
Vainly it trilled its sweetest note,
Coldly received was its ardent sueing,
Silent the mirrored songster’s throat.

Wearied at last, it flew off sadly,
Back to the cage’s open door,
Back to the home it left so gladly
Only a little hour before.

Dead are the lovers so fondly mated!
Gone is their nest; it was blown away!
But safe in the narrow cage it hated
The captive sings on its perch to-day.