The Canary In His Cage
SING away, ay, sing away,
Merry little bird,
Always gayest of the gay,
Though a woodland roundelay
You ne'er sung nor heard;
Though your life from youth to age
Passes in a narrow cage.
Near the window wild birds fly,
Trees are waving round:
Fair things everywhere you spy
Through the glass pane's mystery,
Your small life's small bound:
Nothing hinders your desire
But a little gilded wire.
Like a human soul you seem
Shut in golden bars:
Placed amidst earth's sunshine-stream,
Singing to the morning beam,
Dreaming 'neath the stars:
Seeing all life's pleasures clear,--
But they never can come near.
Never! Sing, bird-poet mine,
As most poets do;--
Guessing by an instinct fine
At some happiness divine
Which they never knew.
Lonely in a prison bright
Hymning for the world's delight.
Yet, my birdie, you're content
In your tiny cage:
Not a carol thence is sent
But for happiness is meant--
Wisdom pure as sage:
Teaching, the true poet's part
Is to sing with merry heart.
So, lie down thou peevish pen,
Eyes, shake off all tears;
And my wee bird, sing again:
I'll translate your song to men
In these future years.
'Howsoe'er thy lot's assigned,
Bear it with a cheerful mind.'
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
The Song Is Not Sad....
he once was a wild bird
who lives in no one's forest
always in flight
to an endless journey, until
he was caught in the cage of
civilization
where he was taught to sing
and what to sing
and when to sing the
prescribed songs
he had always been a sad black bird
for years and years and years
until he gets freed because the lock is
finally broken and the rails all turn to dust
because of rust
when he goes outside with his wings
he does not like it anymore
he forgets what he was once in the wild
he comes back
constructs and reconstructs his cage
exactly as it was once
given to him by force of circumstance
locks himself in
and then begins to sing again
do not tell me that it did not happen to you
the song is not sad.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Bird And The Ship. (From The German Of Müller)
'The rivers rush into the sea,
By castle and town they go;
The winds behind them merrily
Their noisy trumpets blow.
'The clouds are passing far and high,
We little birds in them play;
And everything, that can sing and fly,
Goes with us, and far away.
'I greet thee, bonny boat! Whither, or whence,
With thy fluttering golden band?'--
'I greet thee, little bird! To the wide sea
I haste from the narrow land.
'Full and swollen is every sail;
I see no longer a hill,
I have trusted all to the sounding gale,
And it will not let me stand still.
'And wilt thou, little bird, go with us?
Thou mayest stand on the mainmast tall,
For full to sinking is my house
With merry companions all.'--
'I need not and seek not company,
Bonny boat, I can sing all alone;
For the mainmast tall too heavy am I,
Bonny boat, I have wings of my own.
'High over the sails, high over the mast,
Who shall gainsay these joys?
When thy merry companions are still, at last,
Thou shalt hear the sound of my voice.
'Who neither may rest, nor listen may,
God bless them every one!
I dart away, in the bright blue day,
And the golden fields of the sun.
'Thus do I sing my merry song,
Wherever the four winds blow;
And this same song, my whole life long,
Neither Poet nor Printer may know.'
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
VI
The tame bird was in a cage, the free bird was in the forest.
They met when the time came, it was a decree of fate.
The free bird cries, "O my love, let us fly to wood."
The cage bird whispers, "Come hither, let us both live in the
cage."
Says the free bird, "Among bars, where is there room to spread
one's wings?"
"Alas," cries the cage bird, "I should not know where to sit
perched in the sky."
The free bird cries, "My darling, sing the songs of the
woodlands."
The cage bird says, "Sit by my side, I'll teach you the speech of
the learned."
The forest bird cries, "No, ah no! songs can never be taught."
The cage bird says, "Alas for me, I know not the songs of the
woodlands."
Their love is intense with longing, but they never can fly wing
to wing.
Through the bars of the cage they look, and vain is their wish to
know each other.
They flutter their wings in yearning, and sing, "Come closer, my
love!"
The free bird cries, "It cannot be, I fear the closed doors of
the cage."
The cage bird whispers, "Alas, my wings are powerless and dead."
poem by Rabindranath Tagore from The Gardener (1913)
Submitted by Silvia Velea
Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian
Sing To Me
Sing to me! Something of sunlight and bloom,
I am so compassed with sorrow and gloom,
I am so sick with the world’s noisse and strife, -
Sing of the beauty and brightness of life –
Sing to me, sing to me!
Sing to me! Something that’s jubilant, glad!
I am so weary, my soul so sad.
All my earth riches are covered with rust,
All my bright dreams are but ashes and dust.
Sing to me, sing to me!
Sing og the blossoms that open in spring,
How the sweet flowers blow, and the long lichens cling,
Say, though the winter is round about me,
There are bright summers and springs yet to be.
Sing to me, sing to me!
Sing me a song full of hope and of truth,
Brimming with all the sweet fancies of youth!
Say, though my sorrow I may not forget,
I have not quite done with happiness yet.
Sing to me, sing to me!
Lay your soft fingers just here, on my cheek;
Turn the light lower – there- no, do not speak,
But sing! My heart thrills at your beautiful voice;
Sing till I turn from my grief and rejoice.
Sing to me, sing to me!
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Tame Bird Was In A Cage
THE tame bird was in a cage, the free bird was in the forest.
They met when the time came, it was a decree of fate.
The free bird cries, 'O my love, let us fly to the wood.'
The cage bird whispers, 'Come hither, let us both live in the cage.'
Says the free bird, 'Among bars, where is there room to spread one's wings?'
'Alas,' cries the caged bird, 'I should not know where to sit perched in the sky.'
The free bird cries, 'My darling, sing the songs of the woodlands.'
The cage bird sings, 'Sit by my side, I'll teach you the speech of the learned.'
The forest bird cries, 'No, ah no! songs can never be taught.'
The cage bird says, 'Alas for me, I know not the songs of the woodlands.'
There love is intense with longing, but they never can fly wing to wing.
Through the bars of the cage they look, and vain is their wish to know each other.
They flutter their wings in yearning, and sing, 'Come closer, my love!'
The free bird cries, 'It cannot be, I fear the closed doors of the cage.'
The cage bird whispers, 'Alas, my wings are powerless and dead.'
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Bird in a Cage
How much I feel for the poor things
Unable to fly or spread their wings,
Each day with the same view
Sad and lonely nothing to do.
To the bird the world is that room
Confined to the cage, that's his tomb.
For life without freedom is nothing at all
No matter whether you're big or small.
Longing to fly on the breeze
Soaring high over the trees
Seeing new places every day
Flying and twirling in glorious play.
Never knowing freedom of the bird that fly's
Sitting on his perch ‘till he dies.
How can a bird that's born for joy
Sit in a cage and sing, like a stuffed toy.
© Hazel 2012
poem by Hazel Connelly
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Farewell Little Bird
Little bird,
why are you so lonely?
Did you not like your home
that I have prepared for you?
Look! it's made of gold!
Can't you see?
I have given you
the nicest place to live
because
you are so dear to me.
Little bird
please sing me a song,
the one
that I have heard from you
the day I saw you in the forest
before I made you mine.
Little bird,
why are you still lonely?
Is my heart for you
not enough?
Do you really want your life
back in the forest? ....
Little bird,
there you are!
now, spread your wings
I'm setting you free.....
Little bird,
I'd rather let you go
and see your happiness,
than keep you beside me
and see your loneliness.
Farewell little bird.
I wish
to hear your song again
......in the forest.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Little Bird I Am
'A little bird I am,
Shut from the fields of air,
And in my cage I sit and sing
To Him who placed me there:
Well pleased a prisoner to be,
Because, my God, it pleases Thee!
'Naught have I else to do;
I sing the whole day long;
And He whom most I love to please
Doth listen to my song,
He caught and bound my wandering wing,
But still He bends to hear me sing.'
poem by Louisa May Alcott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Song Of Singing
Sing! gangling lad, along the brink
Of wild brook-ways of shoal and deep,
Where killdees dip, and cattle drink,
And glinting little minnows leap!
Sing! slimpsy lass who trips above
And sets the foot-log quivering!
Sing! bittern, bumble-bee, and dove--
Sing! Sing! Sing!
Sing as you will, O singers all
Who sing because you _want_ to sing!
Sing! peacock on the orchard wall,
Or tree-toad by the trickling spring!
Sing! every bird on every bough--
Sing! every living, loving thing--
Sing any song, and anyhow,
But Sing! Sing! Sing!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Karl’s Brew Café In Buhangin
You were singing the joys of your life
In a small café cramped with friends
And some just curious for your voice
And some who knew you can sing
And sing so beautifully
Like a magical bird
Like a mythical bird
Crowded you showered them with
All your love
My three friends texted
“It is sad why you are not here with us
My son danced with her song
He lifted my chair so I will dance too
And oblige to sing one of those songs
He really loved”
Tess I see enjoyed the show very well
And we heard something beautiful
“Without you”, because as you said
You are always “busy somewhere else”
It was that injustice which you did
That we cannot explain to Cynthia
Always your unexplained absence
Always your disappearing act
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sing
Sing, sing a song
Sing out loud
Sing out strong
Sing of good things not bad
Sing of happy not sad
(*) sing, sing a song
Make it simple to last
Your whole life long
Dont worry that its not
Good enough for anyone
Else to hear
Just sing, sing a song
La la la la la
La la la la la la...
Sing, sing a song
Let the world sing along
Sing of love there could be
Sing for you and for me
Repeat (*)
song performed by by Carpenters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
inside Facebook
i am a song there
ready to be sung
you can sing me
if you want
i am my own lyrics
the notes are
taken from the
mouth of the bird
that sings only
at night
i am a song there
hanging upon a tree
like a very ripe fruit
you can pick me
and taste me
and then tell me
if i am selfish
for i am not
i am an offering
and you must not refuse
i am a song there
sing me and then
i will listen
and then i will know
who i am
where i am going
what i will become
it is your hum
your singing me
that can make me alive
your mouth can make
me a new bird
singing another song
for this world
tonight
look, the stars are listening
the moon is ready
for this dance of love
tonight
i am a song there
sing me now
give me life
touch me so tenderly
like a woman.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Valentine's Day
Oh! I wish I were a tiny browny bird from out the south,
Settled among the alder-holts, and twittering by the stream;
I would put my tiny tail down, and put up my tiny mouth,
And sing my tiny life away in one melodious dream.
I would sing about the blossoms, and the sunshine and the sky,
And the tiny wife I mean to have in such a cosy nest;
And if some one came and shot me dead, why then I could but die,
With my tiny life and tiny song just ended at their best.
poem by Charles Kingsley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sing Your Life
Sing your life
Any fool can think of words that rhyme
Many others do
Why dont you ?
Do you want to ?
Oh...
Sing your life
Walk right up to the microphone
And name
All the things you love
All the things that you loathe
Oh, sing your life
The things that you love
And the things you loathe
Oh, sing your life
Oh, sing your life
La, la-la, la-la, sing your life
La, la-la, la-la, sing your life
Others sang your life
But now is a chance to shine
And have the pleasure of
Saying what you mean
Have the pleasure of
Meaning what you sing
Oh, make no mistake my friend
All of this will end
So sing it now (sing your life)
All the things you love (sing your life)
All the things you loathe
Oh, sing your life
The things that you love
And the things you loathe (sing your life)
Oh, sing oh...
Oh, sing oh...
La, la-la, la-la, sing your life
La, la-la, la-la, sing your life
Dont leave it all unsaid
Somewhere in the wasteland of your head, oh
Head, oh, head, oh, head, oh
And make no mistake, my friend
Your pointless life will end
But before you go
Can you look at the truth ?
You have a lovely singing voice
A lovely singing voice
And all of those
Who sing on-key
They stole the notion
From you and me
So, sing your life (sing your life)
Sing your life (sing your life)
Oh, sing your oh...
Oh, sing your
Sing your life
Sing your life
Sing your life
Oh, sing your oh...
(sing your life)
(sing your life)
Sing your life
(sing your life)
song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Davie Gellatley's Song
Young men will love thee more fair and more fast;
Heard ye so merry the little bird sing?
Old men's love the longest will last,
And the throstle-cock's head is under his wing.
The young man's wrath is like light straw on fire;
Heard ye so merry the little bird sing?
But like red-hot steel is the old man's ire,
And the throstle-cock's head is under his wing.
The young man will brawl at the evening board;
Heard ye so merry the little bird sing?
But the old man will draw at the dawning the sword,
And the throstle-cock's head is under his wing.
poem by Sir Walter Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Sing
I sing to vent the pain that is sometimes in me
Other times I sing of happiness, jubilation and glee
Sometimes I sing in celebration and can rock out all night long
I sing of love through every ballad and heart wrenching love song
Sometimes I sing a song that is trapped inside my head
I sing it all day long, sometimes until I go to bed
I sing of memories, songs that mark pages in my past
I sing on holidays, great carols that last and last and last
I sing when I am working, then time doesn’t seem so long
I sing when I am lonely, there’s nothing like the comfort of a song
To me, to sing with all my voice is simply a blast
I hope to sing everyday of my life until I breathe my last
poem by Rhonda Baker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Sky-Lark’s Song
WINGED voice to tell the skies of earth,
Dear earth-born lark, sing on, sing clear,
Sing into heaven that she may hear
;Sing what thou wilt, so she but know
Thine ecstasy of summer mirth
And think ''Tis from the world below!'
Instant, old wont returns fresh brought,
And her desire goes seeking me,
For whom her whole world used to be
And all my world for sake of her;
She cannot think an earthward thought
That shall not seem my messenger.
She will be glad for love, and smile,
Saying 'Thank God for joy like ours:
Saying 'There come the kind home hours:
His work-day will be sped ere long,
That keeps him hence this little while.
'Sing, lark, until she know thy song.
Sing of the earth, but sing no care,
Sing thine own measureless content;
She will remember what it meant;
Griefs are too base, but, carolling thus,
Thou with thy joy mayst reach her there,
And she joy too remembering us.
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Little Bird Of Love And Desire
little bird of love and desire
do not perch upon a twig so far from me
fly a little bit closer
my heart is full of love and desire too
come closer and hover on the soft spot of my chest
there is a nest there
where you can rest
where you can soundly sleep
come little bird live with me
sing me the songs of love for i am weary
sing, sing, sing little bird and live with me
for i am weak and weary
when my eyes close little bird
come and heed this lover's last bid
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Sing A Sad Song
I sing a sad song for the cold, lonely
Moments no one will admit to aloud.
I sing a sad song for all of the broken
Promises,
Wrought by circumstances beyond
Anyone's control.
I sing a sad song for the faces pressing
Against the window panes in longing.
I sing a sad song for wild anticipation
Of days that never come.
I sing a sad song for the telephone
That never rings enough.
I sing a sad song for dreams woven of
Hopeless illusions.
I sing a sad song for all of those who
Waste time, singing sad songs!
poem by Dorothy Holmes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
An Old-Year Song
As through the forest, disarrayed
By chill November, late I strayed,
A lonely minstrel of the wood
Was singing to the solitude
I loved thy music, thus I said,
When o'er thy perch the leaves were spread
Sweet was thy song, but sweeter now
Thy carol on the leafless bough.
Sing, little bird! thy note shall cheer
The sadness of the dying year.
When violets pranked the turf with blue
And morning filled their cups with dew,
Thy slender voice with rippling trill
The budding April bowers would fill,
Nor passed its joyous tones away
When April rounded into May:
Thy life shall hail no second dawn,--
Sing, little bird! the spring is gone.
And I remember--well-a-day!--
Thy full-blown summer roundelay,
As when behind a broidered screen
Some holy maiden sings unseen
With answering notes the woodland rung,
And every tree-top found a tongue.
How deep the shade! the groves how fair!
Sing, little bird! the woods are bare.
The summer's throbbing chant is done
And mute the choral antiphon;
The birds have left the shivering pines
To flit among the trellised vines,
Or fan the air with scented plumes
Amid the love-sick orange-blooms,
And thou art here alone,--alone,--
Sing, little bird! the rest have flown.
The snow has capped yon distant hill,
At morn the running brook was still,
From driven herds the clouds that rise
Are like the smoke of sacrifice;
Erelong the frozen sod shall mock
The ploughshare, changed to stubborn rock,
The brawling streams shall soon be dumb,--
Sing, little bird! the frosts have come.
Fast, fast the lengthening shadows creep,
The songless fowls are half asleep,
The air grows chill, the setting sun
May leave thee ere thy song is done,
The pulse that warms thy breast grow cold,
Thy secret die with thee, untold
The lingering sunset still is bright,--
Sing, little bird! 't will soon be night.
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!