The Caged Skylark

As a dare-gale skylark scanted in a dull cage

Man’s mounting spirit in his bone-house,

mean house, dwells –

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 sometimes the sweetest, sweetest spells,

Yet both droop deadly sometimes in their cells

Or wring their barriers in bursts of fear or rage.

 

Not that the sweet-fowl, song-fowl, needs no rest –

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 no distressed

For a rainbow footing it nor he for his bones risen.

 

~ Gerald Manley Hopkins

Everyman’s Library Pocket Poets : Hopkins, p. 17

 

{This is missing the accent marks needed for reading this well out loud! I apologize as I’m not sure how to get those without searching and just copying and pasting them?}

~