By bars of my prison The thick nettle lies; A willow has risen Pavilion-wise. Boats gaily are seeking The far-away blue; The lattice is creaking, My file passes through. My sorrowful dreaming Is quiet in me; The waters are gleaming, I soon shall be free. No gloom my heart darkens, My ache is at rest; And while my ear hearkens, Hand files with a zest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WILD FLOWER'S SONG by WILLIAM BLAKE ESTRANGEMENT by WILLIAM WATSON THE BRIDE AND GROOM by WILLIAM EDWARD ADAMS HILLS by GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE MR. BARNEY MAGUIRE'S ACCOUNT OF THE CORONATION by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM THE PARTING OF LAUNCELOT AND GUENEVERE; A FRAGMENT by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |