| Music in My Heart |
|
Now, who would think it a better plan For a little bird to be Trapped in a lonely cage, Confined to a cold existence, With naught of worth to see ... Shut inside from the sun's rich glow, Where she had known the light, No more to fly in a continuous sky With countless friends in flight ... Kept from the softest clouds of heaven, Never to soar in their lofty height, Unable to control the fight of the day Or revel in the joys of pure delight? For, someone chose to put her there, The cage door tightly barred, She crouched down deep within; Her life forever marred. She turns around, so desperately, then, With little to own but a dream; No more distracted by physical power Or threat of enemy scream. She hankers long for things she's known. But, wishing is all in the past. For, now, she can only see with her heart, With nothing else to grasp. Her sight becomes set on distant wonder, As she stares beyond the bars, Way yonder; where the peaceful breezes reach And rustle high among the stars. The warmth of the son begins to shine, As heaven becomes her own. For, she finds sweeter beauty, now, Than in other heights she's known. Because of that cage of deepest despair, Because of that drooping of wing, Her heart overflows in freedom within And her throat is compelled to sing. Now, her soul will chorus the more, not less. For, within the heart is a desire to sing That nothing can suppress. I believe in the sun, even when it isn't shining I believe in love, even when I can't feel it I believe in God, even when He is silent. "Hope" is the thing with feathers ... That perches in the soul And sings the tune without the words; And never stops at all. Emily Dickinson |
| Other poems by Derry A large collection of poems, submitted by Derry |
| The Poem Library Contents Page |