Build high, build wide your prison wall
That there be room enough for all,
Who hold you in contempt. Build wide,
That all the land be locked inside.
Though you have seized the valiant few
whose glory cast a shade on you,
How can you now go home with ease,
Jangling your heavy dungeon keys.
The birds that still insist on song,
The sunlit stream still running strong,
The flow'rs still blazing red and blue,
All, all are in contempt of you.
The parents dreaming still of peace,
The playful children, the wild geese
Who still must fly, the mountains too,
Like fists, are in contempt of you!
When you have seized the moon and sun
And jailed the poems one by one,
And trapped each trouble-making breeze
Then you can throw away your keys.
YOU ARE READING
Poems In The Light
PoésieA small collection of my personal favourites, the silly, the clever and the profane... Maybe you can suggest your own preferences?
