The Caged Bird

The cages hang from trees,
Solid shadows feather-musty
Where the sun sinks unhappy.
And whilst the river-songs unfairly
Keep weaving notes towards joy,
The caged bird calls onward
Through the vastness of the place.

Birds have worn out the distances,
But I know their silent secrets,
The unfurling within the blue;
Each rustle conquers,
For it is in their song
My heartbeat travels forth,
As tenderness emerges
With the scent of unfortunate branches.

Now looses—roots will see the skin,
Each lark drifting free,
Looking down at trees and leaves
But somehow solemn with the rhythm
Of this cage that is also home.

It is where I search,
And why my heart wields against its closure,
Remembering that I am free
In the gentle night borne anew.

• Louis MacNeice