letra de sympathy - florence price
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!
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