A free bird leaps
on the back of the
wind
and floats
downstream
till the current
ends
and dips his wings
int he orange sun
rays
and dares to claim
the sky.
But a bird that
stalks
down his narrow
cage
can seldom see
through
his bars of rage
his wings are
clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his
throat to sing.
The caged bird
sings
with a fearful
trill
of things unknown
but longed for
still
and his tune is
heard
on the distant
hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
The free bird
thinks of another breeze
and the trade
winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms
waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the
sky his own.
But a caged bird
stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts
on a nightmare scream
his wings are
clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his
throat to sing.
The caged bird
sings
with a fearful
trill
of things unknown
but longed for
still
and his tune is
heard
on the distant
hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
Maya Angelou
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