TO THE CANARY-BIRD a sonnet by Jones Very

I cannot hear thy voice with others’ ear,
Who make of thy lost liberty a gain;
And in thy tale of blighted hopes and fears
Feel not that every note is born with pain.
Alas! That with thy music’s gentle swell
Past days of joy should through thy memory throng,
And each to thee their words of sorrow tell,
While ravish’d sense forgets thee in thy song.
The heart that on the past and future feeds,
And pours in human words its thoughts divine,
Though at each birth the spirit inly bleeds,
Its song may charm the listening ear like mine,
And men with gilded cage and praise will try
To make the bard, like thee, forget his native sky.

When this author saddens because the caged bird sings, I disagree with him. Having heard varied, lilting, soaring and seraphic songs from my boxed canaries, I still rejoice that they shared their gifts with me. They ring in memory’s welcome ears.