Work Text:
In the ice fogs of September,
The thrush flew from her ancient cage.
Once finding her empty chamber,
The great dog howled in wild rage.
Far she flew with fate as her aid,
Far she flew with a tear-stained face,
Abandoning her life once staid,
Her gentle heart would not efface.
Thrust in her side a mighty thorn,
Bearing a soul brim-full of pain,
She came to find herself forlorn,
Beneath the stars upon the plain.
Providence oh! Thy blessed Queen!
Pray – alleviate the unseen.
Hunger mauled the bird’s very core,
She trudged through the vacant town square,
In search of victuals to restore,
But she was told “there’s none to share.”
Desperate through the streets she trod,
Past the new minted factories.
A friend to no one but her God,
No possession but memories.
Fainting now in deathly weakness,
Under the burden of her dearth,
She fell to her knees in distress,
And lay senseless upon the earth.
Behold! Blessed deliverance,
Was heralded in the distance.
Convalescent in pleasant arms,
Lavished with obliging smiles,
Amiable friends full of charms,
Yet tedious seemed those whiles.
Confined within, constrained to rest,
Sundered from the luminous night,
She longed for air to fill her chest,
Icy cold and clear as starlight.
By anguish dreams were haunted yet,
Wistful remembrances of life,
Full of delight, hard to forget,
Now overcome with pain and strife.
Fastened tight within her small cot,
Return to home the bird could not.
Though Spring it crept upon the fold,
The thrush again could not rejoice,
Many larks whistled through the wold,
But she remained with muted voice.
Hours spent in listless pining,
For the dog from which she had flown,
Till she heard a whisper whining,
Across the sky the words were blown.
Over the moors the warm winds called,
A desperate plea filled with longing,
Hailing from her cage - ancient walled,
To the hound the voice belonging,
“Curious bird, where hast thou fled?
Return to me, let us be wed.”