THE PRISONER 
     
    
   
   
    
     I LASH and writhe against my prison bars, 
     
     And watch with sullen eyes the gaping crowd 
     
     Give me my freedom and the burning stars, 
     
     The hollow sky, and crags of moonlit cloud! 
     
    
   
   
    
     Once I might range across the trackless plain, 
     
     And roar with joy, until the desert air 
     
    

    
     And wide horizons echoed it amain: 
     
     I feared no foe, for I was monarch there! 
     
    
   
   
    
     I saw my shadow on the parching sand, 
     
    

    
     When the hot sun had kissed the mountain’s rim; 
     
     And when the moon rose o’er long wastes of land, 
     
    

    
     I sought my prey by some still river’s brim; 
     
    
   
   
    
     And with me my fierce love, my tawny mate, 
     
     Meet mother of strong cubs, meet lion’s bride 
     
     We made our lair in regions desolate, 
     
     The solitude of wildernesses wide. 
     
    
   
   
    
     They slew her . . . and I watched the life-blood 
     
    
   
   
    
     flow 
     
     From her torn flank, and her proud eyes grow dim: 
     
     I howled her dirge above her while the low, 
     
     Red moon clomb up the black horizon’s rim. 
     
    
   
   
    
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