Sir Walter Raleigh to a Caged Linnet

Thou tiny solace of these prison days,
Too long already have I kept thee here ;
With every week thou hast become more dear —
So dear that I will free thee : fly thy ways.
Man, the alternate slave and tyrant, lays
Too soon on others what he hath to bear.
Thy cage is in my cage ; but, never fear,
The sun once more shall bathe thee with its rays.
Fly forth, and tell the sunny woods how oft
I think of them, and stretch my limbs in thought
Upon their fragrant mosses green and soft ;
And whistle all the whistlings God hath taught
Thy throat, to other songsters high aloft —
Not to a captive who can answer nought.