A HUNTER old whom once the desert air And bulls' blood pricked to hunger, then he scann'd The sea beyond him and the lonely sand With sullen roaring from his rocky lair. Then like a damned soul in dire Hell's despair For the lewd pleasure of a gaping band, He came and went within a cage, his grand Rude head wall-thwarted in his pacing there. Such being his vile doom perpetual All meat and drink the savage beast put by Till his wild soul in death o'er-leapt the wall. O rebel to the world's captivity, Weak heart still caged, why wilt thou too not die And like the lion make an end of all? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHAMBER MUSIC: 12 by JAMES JOYCE LA PALOMA IN LONDON by CLAUDE MCKAY CONTRA MORTEM: THE BEING AS MEMORY by HAYDEN CARRUTH ON GOING UNNOTICED by ROBERT FROST THE IMPORTANCE OF GREEN by JAMES GALVIN TIRED by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |