Canaries

Thou should'st be carolling thy Maker's praise,
Poor bird! now fetter'd, and here set to draw,
With read more

Thou should'st be carolling thy Maker's praise,
Poor bird! now fetter'd, and here set to draw,
With graceless toil of beak and added claw,
The meagre food that scarce thy want allays!
And this--to gratify the gloating gaze
Of fools, who value Nature not a straw,
But know to prize the infraction of her law
An hard perversion of her creatures' ways!
Thee the wild woods await, in leaves attired,
Where notes of liquid utterance should engage
Thy bill, that now with pain scant forage earns.
- Julian C.H. Fane,

Sing away, ay, sing away,
Merry little bird
Always gayest of the gay,
Though read more

Sing away, ay, sing away,
Merry little bird
Always gayest of the gay,
Though a woodland roundelay
You ne'er sung not heard;
Though your life from youth to age
Passes is a narrow cage.

Bird of the amber beak,
Bird of the golden wing!
Thy dower is thy carolling;
read more

Bird of the amber beak,
Bird of the golden wing!
Thy dower is thy carolling;
Thou hast not far to seek
Thy bread, nor needest wine
To make thy utterance divine;
Thou art canopied and clothed
And unto Song bethrothed.