A PRISONER
A PRISONER am I.
In fivefold gyves and strong
I shall be captive, bound,
My whole life long.
But fettered, I shall make my bonds
Into a shining song.
For if it were not for the chains I bear
I should be unaware
Of the frail splendour of a peacock pacing slow,
Rich, opalescent dyes,
Blue, green, bronze-burnished, lustrous argent eyes—
A fanfarade
Of lapis, azure, emerald and jade—
A glory of spread plumes where shattered rainbows played.
And never should I know
The sound of running water soft and low,
The hushed grey music of a summer rain,
A plain song cadence, beautiful and strange,
Old wistful chants scarred with lost Eden’s pain.
Nor should I mark the rough austerity
Of surf, the rude caress of waves that buffet me.
Or find delight
In the cool touch of smoothéd ivory.
And always I should lack
The scent of burning leaves, the poignant smack
Of box; or heliotrope in the hot sun;
Primroses opening their pale stars one by one.
Then, too, I should forego the savour of fresh bread.
Clear-dripping honey thick with the perfume
Of the red clover bloom.
And never should I cool my parchéd mouth
With luscious apricots, warm, tinctured of the South.
God, when my body must
Return to dust,
O let me be
Not utterly set free
From these my friendly bonds!
O let me use them there, as here, for Thee
With deeper rapture, keener ecstasy.