http://pure.dswarmsikhttkg7jgsoyfiqpj3ighupfrvuz5ri3lu5q2dlqyrpgk7ad.onion/projects/poems-reprint.html
With sweet May dews my wings were wet, And Phoebus fir'd my vocal rage; He caught me in his silken net, And shut me in his golden cage. He loves to sit and hear me sing, Then, laughing, sports and plays with me; Then stretches out my golden wing, And mocks my loss of liberty.