That's how I was. Somebody found my chrysalis And shut it in a match-box. I've seen people put My shrivelled wings were beaten, A chrysalis in a match-box, Shed their colours in dusty scales To see, they told me, "what sort of moth would come." Before the box was opened But when it broke its shell For the moth to fly. It slipped and stumbled and fell about its prison And tried to climb to the light For space to dry its wings. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN THE NEOLITHIC AGE by RUDYARD KIPLING ON A YOUNG BRIDE DROWNED IN THE BOSPHORUS by AGATHIAS SCHOLASTICUS SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 17. THE CHILD by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) DOOMSDAY by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES MISERABLE NIGHT by AVENELLE WILMETH BLAIR THE FOREST SPRING by MADISON JULIUS CAWEIN |