Poems (Barker)/Bondage

by Alice J. Green Barker

Bondage.

'Tis a beautiful place—I know,
 Its gildings are finest gold—
'Tis the workmanship of a master hand,
 And his grandest work I'm told!
A gilded palace of wealth and fame!
 A prison, called by another name!

"Your beautiful home," they say,
 And they utter the words with bliss,
Ah! little they know of the restless soul
 That must soon be caged in this;
And they never see a lingering trace
 Of secret pain on the quiet face.

I've turned with a cry of pain;
 I've uttered many a prayer;
I've drank of pleasure's festal cup,
 And mingled with despair;
But my soul is filled with a constant fear,
 And the jailor's voice through all I hear.

And I fain would turn and fly
 To the farthest bound of earth;
I fain would utter a prayer to die
 And curse my wretched birth!
But a gilded chain still holds me back,
 And binds my soul to a cruel rack.

And I fain would turn and fly
 To the farthest bound of earth;
I fain would utter a prayer to die
 And curse my wretched birth!
But a gilded chain still holds me back,
 And binds my soul to a cruel rack.

I shall be like a prisoned bird—
 A bird of the greenwood tree!
Flittering among the singing birds
 Who will never care for me.
They will mock at my simple little song,
 And my poor brown coat as I join the throng.