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<h2> THE CAPTIVE DOVE. </h2>
<p>
Poor restless dove, I pity thee;<br/>
And when I hear thy plaintive moan,<br/>
I mourn for thy captivity,<br/>
And in thy woes forget mine own.<br/>
<br/>
To see thee stand prepared to fly,<br/>
And flap those useless wings of thine,<br/>
And gaze into the distant sky,<br/>
Would melt a harder heart than mine.<br/>
<br/>
In vain—in vain! Thou canst not rise:<br/>
Thy prison roof confines thee there;<br/>
Its slender wires delude thine eyes,<br/>
And quench thy longings with despair.<br/>
<br/>
Oh, thou wert made to wander free<br/>
In sunny mead and shady grove,<br/>
And far beyond the rolling sea,<br/>
In distant climes, at will to rove!<br/>
<br/>
Yet, hadst thou but one gentle mate<br/>
Thy little drooping heart to cheer,<br/>
And share with thee thy captive state,<br/>
Thou couldst be happy even there.<br/>
<br/>
Yes, even there, if, listening by,<br/>
One faithful dear companion stood,<br/>
While gazing on her full bright eye,<br/>
Thou mightst forget thy native wood<br/>
<br/>
But thou, poor solitary dove,<br/>
Must make, unheard, thy joyless moan;<br/>
The heart that Nature formed to love<br/>
Must pine, neglected, and alone.<br/></p>
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