Come in and welcome, tiny thing,
With snowy breast and soft brown wing,
And beak of tawny hue.
But why, I pray, this wild alarm?
I will not let you come to harm;
I'm fond of such as you.

Stop, little bird! you foolish thing!
Why will you beat your tender wing
Against the cruel pane?
I do the same myself; I fret
Against the bonds about me set,
And find it all in vain.

I cannot make you understand.
Wait—I will take you in my hand,
And put you through the door.
You precious, panting little mite!
The cat would eat you at a bite
And lick his jaws for more.

He shall not have you, nor will I.
Keep you from yonder clear blue sky.
There! soar where'er you list.
To cage a bird breaks Nature's laws;
And then I am and always was
An abolitionist.

Go, find your mate: she waits for you
Somewhere in yonder fields of blue,
Or on some swaying bough.
Tell her you got into a scrape,
But made a fortunate escape—
And please just tell her how.

You might have met a prisoner's doom,
When you came blundering to my room;
Yet I have set you free.
Then, sometimes fold your wee brown wing
Upon my hickory tree, and sing
Your sweetest songs to me.