by: Paul Laurence Dunbar (1872-1906)
KNOW what the caged bird feels, alas!
- When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;
- When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,
- And the river flows like a stream of glass;
- When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,
- And the faint perfume from its chalice steals--
- I know what the caged bird feels!
- I know why the caged bird beats his wing
- Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;
- For he must fly back to his perch and cling
- When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;
- And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars
- And they pulse again with a keener sting--
- I know why he beats his wing!
- I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
- When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,--
- When he beats his bars and he would be free;
- It is not a carol of joy or glee,
- But a prayer that he sends from his heart's deep core,
- But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings--
- I know why the caged bird sings!
