The sky is around me—the blue, bright sky!
The hills lie beneath me, spread far and clear,
With their glowing heath-flowers and bounding deer;
I see the waves flash on the sunny shore—
I am free, I am free—I return no more!”
Alas, alas! my bird!
Why seek’st thou to be free?
Wert thou not bless’d in thy little bower,
When thy song breathed naught but glee?
“Did my song of the summer breathe naught but glee?