I had a dove
I had a dove the sweet dove died;
and I have thought it died of grieving:
O what could it grieve for ? Its feet were tied,
With a silken thread of my own hands weaving;
Sweet little red feet! Why should you die-
Why should you leave me, sweet bird! Why?
You lived a alone in the forest-tree,
Why, pretty thing! Would you not live with me?
I kissed you oft and gave you white peas;
Why not live sweetly, as in the green trees?
John keats