Sympathy

I know what the caged bird feels, alas! When the sun is bright on the upland slopes, When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass, And the river flows like a stream of hope; When the first bird sings and the first bud opes, And the faint perfume from its chalice steals— I know what the caged bird feels.

I know why the caged bird beats his bars, And yearns for the sea, and hangs his head, And eyes the sky, and sings of the stars, And longs for the tender and distant red; For he must fly back to his perch in the sky, And thus the world keeps the treasures it seals; I know why the caged bird sings.

• Paul Laurence Dunbar