LXIV. INSECT JOY. ABOVE the streamlet's bend, in this warm nook, A drop-a point immeasurably small Of that which fills the earth, the air, the sky ?Oh, who shall speak thy praise, Great, Bounteous God of all! LXV. TO A CAGED THRUSH. (IN A CROWDED STREET.) I. Thou mayst be light of heart, sweet bird, Though reft of liberty; And blither notes I never heard From sunniest bush or tree. II. And yet, though I could listen long, Wert thou unprisoned nigh, And thank thee for that well-known song, It now but wakes a sigh: III. A sigh for far-off meadows green, Or more for sheltering grove, Where thou didst learn those notes, I ween, And I should joy to rove. IV. I scarce can think thou art so gay But rather thus wouldst chase away V. A dream that o'er thee from a cloud, Thou singest as one might laugh aloud VI. Or is it, thou wouldst sweetly teach A lesson of content With any lot that comes, to each Who sees thy banishment? U VII. Art thou a little winged spright To show how men may put to flight VIII. Oh, I will deem it thus may be, Till I can praise for liberty, As thou dost for thy prison. IX. I will not sigh for the green fields, Of gladness for to-day. X. As thou wouldst vainly beat thy wing Against the wires about thee; And so contentedly dost sing Where all were gloom without thee, |