"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 glass; 
        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 wing 
        Till its blood is red on the cruel bars; 
    For he must fly back to his perch and cling 
    When he fain would be on the bough a-swing; 
        And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars 
    And they pulse again with a keener sting — 
    I know why he beats his wing!
    I know why the caged bird sings, ah me, 
        When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,— 
    When he beats his bars and he would be free; 
    It is not a carol of joy or glee, 
        But a prayer that he sends from his heart's deep core, 
    But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings — 
    I know why the caged bird sings!"
-Dunbar
 
 
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