The Caged Skylark by Gerard Manley Hopkins
As a dare-gale skylark scanted in a dull cage
Man's mounting spirit in his bone-house, mean house, dwellsâ€”
That bird beyond the remembering his free fells;
This in drudgery, day-labouring-out life's age.
Though aloft on turf or perch or poor low stage,
Both sing sometÃmes the sweetest, sweetest spells,
Yet both droop deadly sÃ³metimes in their cells
Or wring their barriers in bursts of fear or rage.
Not that the sweet-fowl, song-fowl, needs no restâ€”
Why, hear him, hear him babble and drop down to his nest,
But his own nest, wild nest, no prison.
Man's spirit will be flesh-bound when found at best,
But uncumbered: meadow-down is not distressed
For a rainbow footing it nor he for his bÃ³nes rÃsen.