Poems (Terry, 1861)/Captive

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CAPTIVE.
The Summer comes, the Summer dies, Red leaves whirl idly from the tree,But no more cleaving of the skies, No southward sunshine waits for me!
You shut me in a gilded cage, You deck the bars with tropic flowers,Nor know that freedom's living rage Defies you through the listless hours.
What passion fierce, what service true, Could ever such a wrong requite?What gift, or clasp, or kiss from you Were worth an hour of soaring flight?
I beat my wings against the wire, I pant my trammelled heart away;The fever of one mad desire Burns and consumes me all the day.
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What care I for your tedious love, For tender word or fond caress?I die for one free flight above, One rapture of the wilderness!
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