 | Sonnets of the Wingless Hours |  |
14
TO OTHERS.
Ye who can roam where thrills the tawny corn,
Or wade through seeded grass, or who can stray
Across the meadows as they make the hay,
Or where the dewdrop sparkles on the thorn—
Or wade through seeded grass, or who can stray
Across the meadows as they make the hay,
Or where the dewdrop sparkles on the thorn—
If you could lose, but for a single day,
Your use of limb, your power to pluck the may
In rutty lanes where thrushes sing all day,
I wonder, would you speak of life with scorn?
Your use of limb, your power to pluck the may
In rutty lanes where thrushes sing all day,
I wonder, would you speak of life with scorn?
God knows, I would not keep you pent for long
In that close cage where anguish pecks the husk
Of Life's spilt millet, upon which it thrives;
In that close cage where anguish pecks the husk
Of Life's spilt millet, upon which it thrives;
But long enough to let you learn the song
Which captive thrushes sing from dawn to dusk:
An hour or two would make you love your lives.
Which captive thrushes sing from dawn to dusk:
An hour or two would make you love your lives.
| Sonnets of the Wingless Hours | |