What can it be,
This curious anxiety?
It is as if I wanted
To fly away from here.
But how absurd!
I have never flown in my life,
And I do not know
What flying means, though I have heard,
Of course, something about it.
Why do I peck the wires of this little cage?
It is the only nest I have ever known.
But I want to build my own,
High in the secret branches of the air.
I cannot quite remember how
It is done, but I know
That what I want to do
Cannot be done here.
I have all I need –
Seed and water, air and light.
Why then, do I weep with anguish,
And beat my head and my wings
Against those sharp wires, while the children
Smile at each other, saying: “Hark how he sings”?
James Kirkup
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