She lives a prisoner within The four bare walls of her poor room. In the bright world she walks no more, Yet cheerfully accepts her doom. And holds that Life is very sweet, As eagerly she looks and sees The golden sunlight daily creep Into her room, and with it weaves Fantastic dreams of rosy hue; Delightful things -- in which she sees The sparkling earth bedecked with dew -- Green hills and vales and stately trees. She lives a prisoner -- and yet, She gets more out of life than we Who walk bowed down with care -- and fret For things we are too blind to see. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MEDAL; A SATIRE AGAINST SEDITION by JOHN DRYDEN CROSSING BROOKLYN FERRY by WALT WHITMAN QUEEN MOUNTAIN by BLANCHE BROWNE BRYANT DEATH by MADISON JULIUS CAWEIN TO GEORGE BORROW (LAVENGRO) by GEORGE HERBERT CLARKE THE MAN; ADDRESSED TO MY ALMA MATER by SAMUEL VALENTINE COLE |