His vision, from the constantly passing bars, has grown so weary that it cannot hold anything else. It seems to him there are a thousand bars; and behind the bars, no world. As he paces in cramped circles, over and over, the movement of his powerful soft strides is like a ritual dance around a center in which a mighty will stands paralyzed. Only at times, the curtain of the pupils lifts, quietly--. An image enters in, rushes down through the tensed, arrested muscles, plunges into the heart and is gone. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DRIFTERS: BELLA COOLA TO WILLIAMS LAKE by KAREN SWENSON THE CONTRETEMPS by THOMAS HARDY A ST. HELENA LULLABY by RUDYARD KIPLING VOICES OF THE NIGHT: PRELUDE by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW KARMA by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE VACANT CAGE (1) by CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER EVENING TRAINS by MARY TRUE AYER PETITION OF A SCHOOLBOY TO HIS FATHER by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |