Poems (Edwards)/The Captive Dove

by Matilda Caroline Smiley Edwards

THE CAPTIVE DOVE.

How can I keep thee pining here
 In thraldom day by day,
When thou art sighing to depart
 On thy bright wings away?
I bend above thy little form
 With tenderness and love,
And yet thou art the same sad thing,
 My little captive dove;
Still pining for the bright green hills
 And yon blue sky above.

And yet, I fain would hold thee here,
 For Oh! when thou art gone,
My spirit will be very sad
 Thou little meek-eyed one;
Why was my heart so formed for love?
 For, prize whate'er I may,
My idol changes into dust,
 Or vanishes away;
And with a stricken soul I stand
 To see their swift decay.

I must not keep thee, for I know
 I'll love thee but too much,
And thou wilt feel, like all things else,
 Time's cold and blighting touch;
And thou wilt die and leave me too,
 Like all things that I love;
I must not, cannot, keep thee here;
 Go then, my Captive Dove;
Away, away to yon green hills,
 And thy blue home above.