By bars of my prison The thick nettle lies; A willow has risen Pavilion-wise. Boats gaily are seeking The far-away blue; The lattice is creaking, My file passes through. My sorrowful dreaming Is quiet in me; The waters are gleaming, I soon shall be free. No gloom my heart darkens, My ache is at rest; And while my ear hearkens, Hand files with a zest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UP AT A VILLA - DOWN IN THE CITY by ROBERT BROWNING ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL by JOHN DRYDEN LINES WRITTEN TO HIS WIFE [WHILE ON A VISIT TO UPPER INDIA] by REGINALD HEBER THE BELFRY PIGEON by NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS THE SHEPHERD-BOY AND THE WOLF by AESOP |