 | Three Hundred Sonnets |  |
189
SPIRIT.
Throw me from this tall cliff,—my wings are strong,The hurricane is raging fierce and high,
My spirit pants, and all in heat I long
To fly right upward to a purer sky,
And spurn the clouds beneath me rolling by;
Lo, thus into the buoyant air I leap
Confident and exulting, at a bound
Swifter than whirlwinds happily to sweep
On fiery wing the reeling world around:
Off with my fetters!—who shall hold me back?
My path lies there,—the lightning's sudden track
O'er the blue concave of the fathomless deep,—
O that I thus could conquer space and time,
Soaring above this world in strength sublime!
| Three Hundred Sonnets | |