Poems with rhymes of wing

I know why the caged bird beats his wing
Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;
For he must fly back to his perch and cling

Gale touched us with a tired wing.
In our souls, raised on a fairy tale,
Sorrow quietly cried for past things.

And drink, and sing,
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.

An eagle on the wing,
Recognise the five
That make the Muses sing.

Sweet birds sing
O'er the graves
Then take wing

Hurt no living thing:
Ladybird, nor butterfly,
Nor moth with dusty wing,

Delighted me to hear thee sing,
What comes o' thee?
Whare wilt thou cow'r thy chittering wing

Ye alike unfold the wing,
Migrate hither, sojourn here,
Both attendant on the spring!

Sped like an angel's wing,
Deep—dowered with gold, and for itself
Brought back a golden ring.

Teach my soul, on early wing,
Thus to soar and thus to sing.

No longer has he strength to plume his wing,
No longer strength to raise his head, poor thing!

The snare and the wing,
They honey, the sting!

This is to-day; and I have no thing
To think of-- nothing whatever to do
But to hear the throb of the pulse of a wing

Cower, as with trembling wing
'Neath the grey hawk Time that flies
Where the phantom colours cling

As those who hear a sweet bird sing,
And love each song it sings the best,
Grieve when they see it taking wing

And could fly on the wing
To heaven I'd soar
And my heart would sing.

Will she not fling them off that cling,
And rise, a bluebird on the wing?

A bird appears a thoughtless thing,
He's ever living on the wing,

The bird that soars on highest wing
Builds on the ground her lowly nest;
And she that doth most sweetly sing

Alas for the bird who was born to sing!
They have made him a cage; they have clipped his wing;