Poems (Curwen)/The Eve of Liberty

by Annie Isabel Curwen

The Eve of Liberty.

TO A CAPTIVE LARK.

I took thee from the snarer's hand,
 A little, quivering, fluttering thing,
And smoothed thy ruffled plumage down,
 Straighten'd the feathers of thy wing,
Which thou had'st bent and broken in
 Thy wild and futile struggling.
'Twas in the cruel Frost King's reign,
 The frozen snow lay thick around;
And brook and river, pond and mere,
 Alike in icy chains were bound;
And many a starving bird like thee,
 In search of food, a death-trap found.
My children pleaded for thy life;
 Methought it had already flown.
"Dear mother, please to set it free,
 Or it will surely die," said one.
"Nay," cried wee Mary, "let it stay
 Till all the frost and snow has gone."
And so we kept thee, birdie, dear,
 In love, which seemed like cruelty;
But now the cruel winter's o'er,
 And the days of thy captivity;
My promises I now redeem,
 And give thee back thy liberty.
Around the door the children stand,
 Longing, yet loth to watch thy flight;
A moment, and the captive's freed,
 Another, and 'tis out of sight,
Like a glad soul from earth set free,
 Soaring upward to the light.