Like as the dove which seeled-up doth fly, Is neither freed, nor yet to service bound. But hopes to gain some help by mounting high Till want of force do force her fall to ground; Right so my mind, caught by his guiding eye, And thence cast off, where his sweet hurt he found, Hath neither leave to live, nor doom to die, Nor held in evil, nor suffered to be sound, But with his wings of fancies up he goes To high conceits, whose fruits are oft but small, Till wounded, blind, and wearied spirits lose Both force to fly, and knowledge where to fall. O happy dove, if she no bondage tried; More happy I, might I in bondage bide. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PORTRAIT OF A MOTOR CAR by CARL SANDBURG THE STORMING OF STONY POINT [JULY 16, 1779] by ARTHUR GUITERMAN UPON THE NIPPLES OF JULIA'S BREAST by ROBERT HERRICK AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM by ALEXANDER POPE EPILOGUE TO LESSING'S LAOCOON by MATTHEW ARNOLD |