Stop, little bird ! you foolish thing !
Why will you beat your tender wing
     Against the cruel pane?
I do the same myself; I fret
Against the bounds about me set,
     And find it all in vain.

I cannot make you understand.
Wait^__I will take you in my hand,
     And put you through the door.
You precious, panting little mite I
The cat would eat you at a bite,
     And lick his jaws for more.

He shall not have you, nor will I
Keep you from yonder clear blue sky.
     There! soar where'er you list.
To cage a bird breaks Nature's laws;
And then I am and always was
     An abolitionist.

Go, find your mate; she waits for you
Somewhere in yonder fields of blue,
     Or on some swaying bough.
Tell her you got into a scrape,
But made a fortunate escape^__
     And please just tell her how.

You might have met a prisoner's doom,
When you came blundering to my room;
     Yet I have set you free.
Then, Sometimes fold your wee brown wing
Upon my hickory tree, and sing
     Your sweetest song to me.

^__Ellen P. Allerton.