Goldfinch in Jail

Within a churchyard, on a recent grave, I saw a little cage That jailed a goldfinch. All was silence save Its hops from stage to stage. There was inquiry in its wistful eye, And once it tried to sing; Of him or her who placed it there, and why, No one knew anything. True, a woman was found drowned the day ensuing, And some at times averred The grave to be her false one's, who when wooing Gave her the bird.

Within a churchyard, on a just-laid plot, I saw a tiny jail: A goldfinch was within. No sound: but, what? Hop, hop, a dismal trail. Inquiry in its wistful look saw I; I saw it fail to sing; Of who had put it in that spot, and why, Folk didn't know a thing. But soon a woman in a brook was found, Spawning this common word: A traitor swain lay in that holy ground; His gift, that bird.