'Scaped
Once I knew a fine song,
—It is true, believe me,—
It was all of birds,
And I held them in a basket;
When I opened the wicket,
Heavens! they all flew away.
I cried, “Come back, Little Thoughts!”
But they only laughed.
They flew on
Until they were as sand
Thrown between me and the sky.
Source: Bartleby.com (archived copy)