|
|
The Bird, Let Loose. (Air.--Beethoven.)
By Thomas Moore
The bird, let loose in eastern skies,[1]
When hastening fondly home,
Ne'er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies
Where idle warblers roam.
But high she shoots thro' air and light,
Above all low delay,
Where nothing earthly bounds her flight,
Nor shadow dims her way.
So grant me, GOD, from every care
And stain of passion free,
Aloft, thro' Virtue's purer air,
To hold my course to Thee!
No sin to cloud, no lure to stay
My Soul, as home she springs;--
Thy Sunshine on her joyful way,
Thy Freedom in her wings!
Extra Info:
[1] The carrier-pigeon, it is well known, flies at an elevated pitch, in order to surmount every obstacle between her and the place to which she is destined.
|
|
Printable Page
Add Your Thoughts on this poem.
This page viewed 284 times.
|
|
