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Gerard Manley Hopkins - The Caged Skylark
Work rating: Low

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 h{`i}s free fells;
 This in drudgery, day-labouring-out life`s age.
 Though aloft on turf or perch or poor low stage
   Both sing somet{`i}mes the sweetest, sweetest spells,
   Yet both droop deadly s{`o}metimes 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 |&| 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 {`u}nc{`u}mber{`e}d: meadow-d{`o}wn is n{`o}t distr{`e}ssed
   For a r{`a}inbow f{`o}oting it nor h{`e} for his b{`o}nes r{`i}sen.
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