Classic Poem

This morn upon the May-tree tall
That shelters our suburban wall
A curious sight I spied, —
A linnet young, of plumage gay,
Fast to the trembling topmost spray
By strange misfortune tied.

There helpless dangling, all in vain
From his enthralling viewless chain
To loose himself he strove;
Till, spent at last, he hung as dead,
No more by brook and flowery mead
On happy wing to rove.

Then, pitying a fate so sad,
I call'd a little singing lad,
And bade him climb the tree;
With orders, at whatever cost,
Though e'en a blooming branch were lost,
To set the captive free.

With steady eye aloft he goes;
I trace him through the rustling boughs;
A joyous shout is heard;
Then, snowy white with tufts of May,
Down to my feet descends the spray,
And with the spray the bird.

I loos'd his bonds; away he flew;
And grateful, from a neighbouring yew
Repaid me with a song;
But what, think you, I found to be
The chain that in captivity
Had held him fast so long?

A single thread of silken hair,
That, borne by zephyrs here and there,
Had settled on the spray;
Then, as he sported there, had wound
His soft and glossy neck around,
And bound him fast a prey.

MORAL .

Ye children of the world, beware!
Too oft a lock of silken hair
Has made the soul a prize;
And held it riveted to earth,
When, by the instinct of its birth,
It should have sought the skies.

And ye who have for God resign'd
The sympathies of womankind,
With me give thanks and sing!
Safe from the ties of earthly love,
Let all your thoughts be fix'd above,
On your eternal King!

Thrice happy! who, for once and all
Releas'd from fond affection's thrall,
No other wish retain,
Except to serve your Lord aright,
And His neglected love requite
Who once for you was slain!

Erewhile enslav'd to vanity,
Rejoice that ye are wholly free
To seek the joys to come!
And bent on your immortal prize,
On wings of contemplation rise.
To God's exalted Paradise,
Your everlasting home!