Cabaret « Au Réveil Matin »,
Cage with birds at the entrance door
Sad bird to roost alone, and every morn
Alone to dress its feathers all forlorn.
The wretched little thing left in the lurch
Grew shy, with turning his deserted perch.
Sometimes, as a set
task, he used to fl
yFrom stick to stick with endless industry
And frantic speed. Then suddenly would sit,
Dumb, gloomy, sad, nor from his corner flit
To see his feathers all puffed out, his eye,
His head put 'neath his wing though day was high,
One guessed his mourning, grief, and widowed state —
Lost every song and every tuneful mate. —
This morn I entered through the cage's door.
And toward the balcony, all ivied o'er.
Approached. The bird still in my hand I bore.
All things to throb, glow, laugh, renew, I see ;
Then opening wide my hand, I said — "Be free."
Set free - Victor Hugo