The lark confinèd in his cage, <br />And captive in his wing, <br />Though fluttering with imprisoned rage, <br />Forbeareth not to sing. <br /> <br />But still the strain, though loud and long, <br />Is but the mock of mirth, <br />Not that dawn-dewy nuptial song <br />That weddeth Heaven with Earth. <br /> <br />Voice that in freedom seems so soft, <br />Fettered, sounds harsh and rough. <br />Listen! He shrilleth far too oft, <br />Nor faltereth half enough. <br /> <br />And I, still feebler it not free, <br />Do hourly more and more <br />Grow silent in captivity, <br />And, if I sing, must soar. <br /> <br />And as the lark's free carol floats <br />High on a sea of sound, <br />So let me fling my random notes <br />To ripple round and round. <br /> <br />Hark! now he shakes the towering skies, <br />A carillon of light, <br />Then dwindleth to a faint surmise, <br />Still singing out of sight. <br /> <br />And, though in clearest light arrayed <br />The Poet's song should shine, <br />Sometimes his far-off voice will fade <br />Into the dim divine. <br /> <br />Then we with following ear and heart <br />Should listen to the end, <br />Though we descry may but in part, <br />And dimly apprehend. <br /> <br />Lo! soon he quits his heavenly quest, <br />Slow-carolling into sight, <br />Then, quavering downward, strikes his nest, <br />Earthward aerolite. <br /> <br />So doubt not, dear, that if I soar <br />Where none longwhile may dwell, <br />Though Heaven at times may be my home, <br />Home is my Heaven as well.<br /><br />Alfred Austin<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-lark-confin-d-in-his-cage/
