Classic Poem

The bells are ringing for church,
Brother Canary,
You twinkler from perch to perch,
Curious, wary,
Flickering ball of fluff,
Topaz and sober buff,
As the sun and shadow take turns
Kissing your cage in the ferns,
Captive Canary.

When the wild birds dip to the pane,
Would you not follow,
—Spent with their southward strain,
Grackle and swallow?
A flutter their swift flight brings,
Tremor to timid wings,
To the fragile daffodil plumes
A longing for tropic blooms,
Longing to follow.

Nay, yours is a sky of glass,
Startled Canary.
Those are but dreams that pass,
Airy vagary.
Stretch your glistening neck
To the celery-leaf and peck.
Yellow your roof of bars;
What more do you know of the stars,
Brother Canary?

What more? oh, the music he flings,
Sudden as fire!
The pulse of his prisoned wings,
Their thwarted desire,
Throbs in each mounting note,
And the bliss of him, angel-throat,
From the dancing orchids soars
Till his tiny heart adores
In the golden choir.

Let us be church-mates to-day,
Brother Canary,
—Playmates, as bird-folk say.
Do the words vary?
Little Laughter of God,
Twinkling from rod to rod,
Star embodied in fluff,
Song is sermon enough,