 | Autumn songs (1889) |  |
46
TO LADY CONSTANCE HOWARD
I dread the Sonnet, whose insidious tonesAllure, and captivate, and lull to sleep
The wingèd steed! No siren of the Deep
Singing to whit'ning harp of dead men's bones
Discourseth sweeter strains, yet are the moans
Of disembodied ghosts, or winds that sweep
The woodlands bare, less sad than these, that keep
The soul in thrall, and turn its bread to stones.
My Muse would wake to larger life, and slip
Such prison bonds,—eager to soar and sing
High with the carolling lark,—or, all as free,
Chirp with the sparrow;—with the swallow dip
To Earth's green breast, or roam,—on wider wing,
To undiscovered countries over-sea.
| Autumn songs (1889) | |