“I
am
blithe
for
I
am
a
fled.”
A
dream
of
a
canary
bird.
Lustrous
dew
of
sad
tears
she
shed,
For
she
dreamt
of
an
irony.
In
the
perch
of
her
master’s
hand,
She
use
to
dwell
her
life
in
cage
Not
in
azure
above
the
land,
Empyrean!
Her
true
abode.
“Worry
no
more
mine
canary.”
Here
art
seeds
that
will
make
thee
full,
And
water
for
thee
is
thirsty.
After
thee
is
done,
thee
must
burp.
“I
no
want
food,
it
is
futile!”
I
want
to
flee!
I
want
to
flee!
Dwelling
in
this
cage
makes
me
ill.
Loud
cry
of
the
poor
little
bird.
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Source: www.isnare.com