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THE PRISONER.
"Our father is a soldier, and in some distant war
He too might be a prisoner in foreign lands afar."
Her dark eyes filled with tear-drops, and she could say no more—
But Henry had already unbarr'd the wicker door.
He threw the window open, and placed the cage below,
And to the ash-tree coppice he watch'd the linnet go.
That evening when the sunset flung around its rosy light,
And the air was sweet with summer, and the many flowers were bright;
They took their walk together, and as they past along,
They heard from that old ash-tree the linnet's pleasant song.
It was like a sweet thanksgiving; and Henry, thus spoke he,
"How glad I am, my sister, I set the linnet free."
