She lives a prisoner within The four bare walls of her poor room. In the bright world she walks no more, Yet cheerfully accepts her doom. And holds that Life is very sweet, As eagerly she looks and sees The golden sunlight daily creep Into her room, and with it weaves Fantastic dreams of rosy hue; Delightful things -- in which she sees The sparkling earth bedecked with dew -- Green hills and vales and stately trees. She lives a prisoner -- and yet, She gets more out of life than we Who walk bowed down with care -- and fret For things we are too blind to see. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ALL IS VANITY, SAITH THE PREACHER' by GEORGE GORDON BYRON FREDERICK DOUGLASS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR ON PLAYWRIGHT (1) by BEN JONSON THE OLD BRIDGE AT FLORENCE; SONNET by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW PSALM 23 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |