I saw such a sorrowful sight, my dears,
Such a sad and sorrowful sight,
As I lingered under the swaying vines,
In the silvery morning light.
The skies were so blue and the day was so fair
With beautiful things untold,
You would think no sad and sorrowful thing
Could enter its heart of gold.

A fairy-like cage was hanging there,
So gay with turret and dome.
You’d be sure a birdie would gladly make
Such a beautiful place its home.
But a wee little yellow-bird sadly chirped
As it fluttered to and fro;
I know it was longing with all its heart
To its wild-wood home to go.

I heard a whir of swift-rushing wings,
And an answering gladsome note;
As close to its nestlings’ prison bars,
I saw the poor mother bird float.
I saw her flutter and strive in vain
To open the prison door.
Then sadly cling with drooping wing
As if all her hopes were o’er.

But ere I could reach the prison house
And let its sweet captive free,
She was gone like a yellow flash of light,
To her home in a distant tree.
“Poor birdie,” I thought, “you shall surely go,
When mamma comes back again;”
For it hurt me so that so small a thing
Should suffer so much of pain.

And back in a moment she came again
And close to her darling’s side
With a bitter-sweet drop of honey dew,
Which she dropped in its mouth so wide.
Then away, with a strange wild mournful note
Of sorrow, which seemed to say
“Goodbye, my darling, my birdie dear,
Goodbye for many a day.”

A quick wild flutter of tiny wings,
A faint low chirp of pain,
A throb of the little aching heart
And birdie was free again.
Oh sorrowful anguished mother-heart,
’Twas all that she could do,
She had set it free from a captive’s life
In the only way she knew.

Poor little birdie! it never will fly
On tiny and tireless wing.
Through the pearly blue of the summer sky,
Or sing the sweet songs of spring.
And I think, little dears, if you had seen
The same sad sorrowful sight,
You never would cage a free wild bird
To suffer a captive’s plight.
—Mary Morrison.