FROM their folded mates they wander far, Their ways seem harsh and wild: They follow the beck of a baleful star, Their paths are dream-beguiled. Yet haply they sought but a wider range, Some loftier mountain slope, And little recked of the country strange Beyond the gates of hope. And haply a bell with a luring call Summoned their feet to tread Midst the cruel rocks, where the deep pitfall And the lurking snare are spread. Maybe, in spite of their tameless days Of outcast liberty, They 're sick at heart for the homely ways Where their gathered brothers be. And oft at night, when the plains fall dark And the hills loom large and dim, For the shepherd's voice they mutely hark, And their souls go out to him. Meanwhile, "Black sheep! black sheep!" we cry, Safe in the inner fold; And maybe they hear, and wonder why, And marvel, out in the cold. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: SAILORS' [OR MARINERS'] SONG by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE KNIGHT'S TOMB by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE A WINTER TWILIGHT by ANGELINA WELD GRIMKE COMPLAINT OF THE ABSENCE OF HER LOVER BEING UPON THE SEA by HENRY HOWARD SONNET: FOR INSPIRATION by MICHELANGELO BUONARROTI |