SYMPATHY (PAUL LAWRENCE DUNBAR 1872-1906)

I know what the cage bird feels, alas!

When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;

When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,

And the river flow like a stream of glass

When the first bird sings and the first bud opens

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 perch 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 wings

I know why the cage bird sings, ah me,

When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore;

When he beats his bars and would be free;

It is not a carol of joy or glee,

But a prayer that he sends from his heart deep core,

But a plea, that upward to heaven, he flings

I know why the cage bird sings!