For moveless limbs no pity I crave, <br /> That never were swift! Still all I prize, <br />Laughter and thought and friends, I have; <br /> No fool to heave luxurious sighs <br />For the woods and hills that I never knew. <br />The more excellent way's yet mine! And you <br /> <br />Flower-laden come to the clean white cell, <br /> And we talk as ever -- am I not the same? <br />With our hearts we love, immutable, <br /> You without pity, I without shame. <br />We talk as of old; as of old you go <br />Out under the sky, and laughing, I know, <br /> <br />Flit through the streets, your heart all me; <br /> Till you gain the world beyond the town. <br />Then -- I fade from your heart, quietly; <br /> And your fleet steps quicken. The strong down <br />Smiles you welcome there; the woods that love you <br />Close lovely and conquering arms above you. <br /> <br />O ever-moving, O lithe and free! <br /> Fast in my linen prison I press <br />On impassable bars, or emptily <br /> Laugh in my great loneliness. <br />And still in the white neat bed I strive <br />Most impotently against that gyve; <br />Being less now than a thought, even, <br />To you alone with your hills and heaven.<br /><br />Rupert Brooke<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/paralysis/
