Poems (Terry, 1861)/Captive
CAPTIVE.
The Summer comes, the Summer dies, Red leaves whirl idly from the tree,But no more cleaving of the skies, No southward sunshine waits for me!
You shut me in a gilded cage, You deck the bars with tropic flowers,Nor know that freedom's living rage Defies you through the listless hours.
What passion fierce, what service true, Could ever such a wrong requite?What gift, or clasp, or kiss from you Were worth an hour of soaring flight?
I beat my wings against the wire, I pant my trammelled heart away;The fever of one mad desire Burns and consumes me all the day.
What care I for your tedious love, For tender word or fond caress?I die for one free flight above, One rapture of the wilderness!