"A Bird, Caught Upon a Lime Twig"

So, my poor Bird, you’re caught at last!

The Lime Twig holds your Plumage fast,

No hopping now from Tree to Tree:

No more on giddy Wing you rove,

From Bow’r to Bow’r, from Grove to Grove,

And boast the Charms of Liberty.

But feel not Sullenness or Rage,

For you shall have so fair a Cage,

And such a cheerful happy Home,

That you more merrily shall sing

Than any Bird of freer Wing,

Nor ever wish again to roam.