MY spirit's on the mountains, where the birds In wild and sportive freedom wing the air, Amidst the heath flowers and the browsing herds, Where Nature's altar is, my spirit's there. It is my joy to tread the pathless hills, Though but in fancy -- for my mind is free And walks by sedgy ways and trickling rills, While I'm forbid the use of liberty. This is delusion -- but it is so sweet That I could live deluded. Let me be Persuaded that my springing soul may meet The eagle on the hills -- and I am free. Who'd not be flattered by a fate like this? To fancy is to feel our happiness. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 5 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI MATER DOLOROSA by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE: CANTO 4 by GEORGE GORDON BYRON TO THOMAS MOORE (2) by GEORGE GORDON BYRON DIPPING CANDLES IN VERMONT by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY BALLAD TO THE TUNE OF 'TO PARLIAMENT THE QUEEN IS GONE' by PATRICK CAREY |