Birdbrain
I, poor captive bird
From thy narrow cage
Pour such music
That it might assuage
The rugged hearts that imprison thee
Were they not deaf to all melody

High spirit winged heart who forever
Beat these unfeeling bars with vain endeavor
Sweet benediction and eternal curse
Veiled glory of this lampless universe
Thy moon behind the clouds
Thy living form among the dead

Words by Percy Bysshe Shelley

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