| SYMPATHY BY PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR |
| I know how the caged bird feels, alas! When the sun is warm on the upland slopes; When the wind flows 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 wing and he would be free; Its 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!~ |
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