AS a dare-gale skylark scanted in a dull cage Man's mounting spirit in his bone-house, mean house, dwells -- That bird beyond the remembering his free fells; This in drudgery, day-labouring-out life's age. Though aloft on turf or perch or poor low stage, Both sing sometimes the sweetest, sweetest spells, Yet both droop deadly sometimes in their cells Or wring their barriers in bursts of fear or rage. Not that the sweet-fowl, song-fowl, needs no rest -- Why, hear him, hear him babble and drop down to his nest, But his own nest, wild nest, no prison. Man's spirit will be flesh-bound when found at best, But uncumbered: meadow-down is not distressed For a rainbow footing it nor he for his bones risen. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SONG OF THE BOW, FR. THE WHITE COMPANY by ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE A GENTLE ECHO ON WOMAN (IN THE DORIC MANNER) by JONATHAN SWIFT SKIPPER IRESON'S RIDE by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER PLAYING IT SAFE by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS FROM A YOUNG WOMAN TO AN OLD OFFICER WHO COURTED HER by ELIZABETH FRANCES AMHERST |