  I HAVE a caged bird, He beats the bars; Wild and bright his eyes, On his breast, scars. An oriole whistles; My bird has not a note, Though I can see the song Trembling in his throat. Other birds fly south To the green pampas floor, But in the blue air Mine spreads his wings no more. I have a caged bird, He neither flies nor sings, But when the house is still I hear the beat of wings. Transcriber’s Notes: Typographical errors have been silently corrected |
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