 | Poems with Fables in Prose
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I
When I am worn amid the burning dust
Of high wall'd cities, round the milltrack drear
Bearing the beam and yoke, as mortals must
Who by their lower selves win lodging here,
Oft, as among some ancient desert horde
Their King flung up the netted bird on high
Whose flight should show the nearest pass whereby
To cross the mountains from the sands abhorred,
Even so cut I the cord,
Dismiss my soul on its delirious wings
Spurning the dull den where the body dwells
In yon green cabinets of grass to stray,
Along the liquid mirrors to delay,
Yonder, in the wishèd land of wells,
By the throbbing of full waters, gleamy springs!
| Poems with Fables in Prose
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