The Gay-Plumed Bird

Thou gay-plumed bird, whose never-bridled flight
O'er field, o'er forest, is one long delight;
Were I a gay-plumed bird, how blest 't would be
Thy songs to sing, to fly, to rest with thee,
Thou gay-plumed bird!

Thou gay-plumed bird, thou canst no longer sing!
Thou art imprisoned by the fowler's spring;
Were I a gay-plumed bird, I would not go
Sporting with such delusive treacheries. No!
Thou gay-plumed bird!

Thou gay-plumed bird, though liberty is gone,
Yet kindness waits thy every want upon;
Were I a gay-plumed bird, I still should long
For the free heaven and the wild woodland song,
Thou gay-plumed bird!

Thou gay-plumed bird, thy golden chain to me
Were but a decorated misery!
Were I a gay-plumed bird, I would not fill
Thy gaudy prison, were it gaudier still,
Thou gay-plumed bird!

Thou gay-plumed bird, they bring thee sugar'd meat,
Use flattering words, caressing while they cheat;
Were I a gay-plumed bird, that sweetened waste
Were worse than very poison to my taste,
Thou gay-plumed bird!

Thou luckless bird! Alas! and thou hast lost
That plumage, once thy brightness and thy boast!
Were I a gay-plumed bird, I could not dwell
A prisoner in thy solitary cell,
Thou gay-plumed bird!