Alas, O Lovely One, Imprisoned here, I tap; thou answerest not, I doubt, and fear. Yet transparent as glass these walls, If thou lean near. Last dusk, at those high bars There came, scarce-heard, Claws, fluttering feathers, Of deluded bird -- With one shrill, scared, faint note The silence stirred. Rests in that corner, In puff of dust, a straw -- Vision of harvest-fields I never saw, Of strange green streams and hills, Forbidden by law. These things I whisper, For I see -- in mind -- Thy caged cheek whiten At the wail of wind, That thin breast wasting; unto Woe resigned. Take comfort, listen! Once we twain were free; There was a Country -- Lost the memory. . . Lay thy cold brow on hand, And dream with me. Awaits me torture; I have smelt their rack; From spectral groaning wheel Have turned me back; Thumbscrew and boot, and then -- The yawning sack. Lean closer, then! Lay palm on stony wall. Let but thy ghost beneath Thine eyelids call: 'Courage, my brother!' Nought Can then appal. Yet coward, coward am I, And drink I must When clanks the pannikin With the longed-for crust; Though heart within is sour With disgust. Long hours there are, When mutely tapping -- well, Is it to Vacancy I these tidings tell? Knock these numb fingers against An empty cell? Nay, answer not. Let still mere longing make Thy presence sure to me, While in doubt I shake: Be but my Faith in thee, For sanity's sake. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHEN THE SPEED COMES by ROBERT FROST ON THE BUST OF HELEN BY CANOVA by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE HOMES OF ENGLAND by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS WRITTEN AT AN INN AT HENLEY by WILLIAM SHENSTONE FITZ-GREENE HALLECK, AT THE UNVEILING OF HIS STATUE by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER |