Caroling Dusk/Four Walls
FOUR WALLS
Four great walls have hemmed me in.Four strong, high walls:Right and wrong,Shall and shan’t.
The mighty pillars tremble whenMy conscience pallsAnd sings its song—I can, I can’t.
If for a moment Samson’s strengthWere given me I’d shoveThem away from where I stand;Free, I know I’d loveTo ramble soul and all,And never dread to strike a wall.
Again, I wonder would that beSuch a happy state for me . . .The going, being, doing, sham—And never knowing where I am.I might not love freedom at all;My tired wings might crave a wall—Four walls to rise and pen me inThis conscious world with guarded men.