Anne Bronte - The Captive Dove

Lyrics

Poor restless dove, I pity thee; And when I hear thy plaintive moan I mourn for thy captivity And in thy woes forget mine own To see thee stand prepared to fly And flap those useless wings of thine And gaze into the distant sky Would melt a harder heart than mine In vain—in vain! Thou canst not rise Thy prison roof confines thee there; Its slender wires delude thine eyes And quench thy longings with despair Oh, thou wert made to wander free In sunny mead and shady grove And far beyond the rolling sea In distant climes, at will to rove! Yet, hadst thou but one gentle mate Thy little drooping heart to cheer And share with thee thy captive state Thou couldst be happy even there Yes, even there, if, listening by One faithful dear companion stood While gazing on her full bright eye Thou might'st forget thy native wood But thou, poor solitary dove Must make, unheard, thy joyless moan; The heart that Nature formed to love Must pine, neglected, and alone