The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn
and he names the sky his own
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his feet are tied
his wings are clipped
so he opens his throat to sing.
