From my spirit's gray defeat, From my pulse's flagging beat, From my hopes that turned to sand Sifting through my close-clenched hand, From my own fault's slavery, If I can sing, I still am free. For with my singing I can make A refuge for my spirit's sake, A house of shining words, to be My fragile immortality. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JONES'S PRIVATE ARGYMENT by SIDNEY LANIER DOMEDAY BOOK: MIRIAM FAY'S LETTER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS LIKE A BULRUSH by MARIANNE MOORE OCTAVES: 2 by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON REMBRANDT TO REMBRANDT by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON SONNET; OXFORD, 1916 by GEORGE SANTAYANA MANOKWARI, IRIAN JAYA; IN MEMORIAM, ALFRED RUSSEL WALLACE by KAREN SWENSON |