I know that liberty is sweet,
Which I cannot regain.
"Do I deserve a fate like this,
Who've ever acted well,
Since first I left the chrysalis,
And fluttered from my shell?
"I've never injured fruit, or flower,
Or man, or bird, or beast;
And such a one should have the power
Of going free, at least.
"And now, if you will let me quit
My prison-house, the cup,
I'll show you how I sport and flit,
And make my wings go up!"
The lid was raised; the prisoner said,
"Behold my airy play!"
Then quickly on the wing he fled
Away, away, away!
From flower to flower he gayly flew,
To cool his aching feet,
And slake his thirst with morning dew,
Where liberty was sweet!
=The Dissatisfied Angler Boy=
I'm sorry they let me go down to the brook;
I'm sorry they gave me the line and the hook;
And wish I had staid at home with my book!
I'm sure 'twas no pleasure to see
That poor little harmless, suffering thing
Silently writhe at the end of the string,
Or to hold the pole, while I felt him swing
In torture,--and all for me!
'Twas a beautiful speckled and glossy trout;
And when from the water I drew him out,
On the grassy bank as he floundered about,
It made me shivering cold,
To think I had caused so much needless pain;
And I tried to relieve him, but all in vain:
O never, as long as I live, again
May I such a sight behold!
But, what would I give, once more to see
The brisk little swimmer alive and free,
And darting about as he used to be,
Unhurt, in his native brook!
'Tis strange that people can love to play,
By taking innocent lives away!
I wish I had stayed at home to-day
With sister, and read my book.
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