To a Captive Lion
Watching, watching thro' the grating—
Pacing, pacing to and fro—
O my brother, all your longing,
All your deep unrest, I know.
Pacing, pacing to and fro—
O my brother, all your longing,
All your deep unrest, I know.
Placed before a heartless public,
Made to feel man's curious gaze,
Life is one long cry for freedom;
'Tis for this, my own heart prays.
Made to feel man's curious gaze,
Life is one long cry for freedom;
'Tis for this, my own heart prays.
Oh my captive brother, gladly
Would I swing the iron door,
Fly with thee to deepest jungle
Where no human trod before.
Would I swing the iron door,
Fly with thee to deepest jungle
Where no human trod before.
There to dwell? Oh no, my brother,
There to die, alone—alone,
Where no eye could read my sorrow,
And no loving heart make moan.
There to die, alone—alone,
Where no eye could read my sorrow,
And no loving heart make moan.
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