652

A Prison gets to be a friend
Between its Ponderous face
And Ours — a Kinsmanship express
And in its narrow Eyes

We come to look with gratitude
For the appointed Beam
It deal us — stated as our food
And hungered for — the same

We learn to know the Planks
That answer to Our feet
So miserable a sound — at first
Nor ever now — so sweet

As plashing in the Pools
When Memory was a Boy
But a Demurer Circuit
A Geometric Joy

The Posture of the Key
That interrupt the Day
To Our Endeavor — Not so real
The Check of Liberty
As this Phantasm Steel
Whose features — Day and Night
Are present to us — as Our Own
And as escapeless — quite

The narrow Round — the Stint
The slow exchange of Hope
For something passiver — Content
Too steep for looking up

The Liberty we knew
Avoided — like a Dream
Too wide for any Night but Heaven
If That — indeed — redeem