We look--and then we listen
Behold the flock we cage to-night--
Was ever such a capture?
To see them is a pure delight;
To hear them--ah! what rapture!

Methinks I hear Delilah's laugh
At Samson bound in fetters;
"We captured!" shrieks each lovelier half,
"Men think themselves our betters!
We push the bolt, we turn the key
On warriors, poets, sages,
Too happy, all of them, to be
Locked in our golden cages!"
Beware! the boy with bandaged eyes
Has flung away his blinder;

He 's lost his mother--so he cries--
And here he knows he'll find her:
The rogue! 't is but a new device,--
Look out for flying arrows
Whene'er the birds of Paradise
Are perched amid the sparrows!





FOR WHITTIER'S SEVENTIETH BIRTHDAY