He was there is my room, A wild bird in a cage, But I was a guest and not for me To open the gate and set him free However great my gloom And unrepenting rage.
But not to see and not to hear Was difficult to try: The small red bird burst into song And sang so sweetly all day long I knew his presence near And his inquiring eye—
So we exchanged some words; And then I scattered seed And put fresh water in his pan And cleaned the litter from the pen, Wondering about caged birds, What more this one might need.
But oh, when night came then I started up in fear At the fierce wing-beat of despair Hurled at the bars, hurting the air, And the heart wild within As if a hawk were near.
The room was sealed and dark And that war all within Where on the small cramped stage The bird fought with his cage And then lay beaten down, Almost extinguished spark.
And when I went back to bed, Trembling, who nothing could, As if this scene had grown so huge It ripped apart all subterfuge, And naked now as God, I wept hot tears like blood.
