WHERE?
217
RELEASE.
F one had watched a prisoner many a year,Standing behind a barrèd window-pane,
Fettered with heavy handcuff and with chain,
And gazing on the blue sky, far and clear;
And suddenly some morning he should hear
The man had in the night contrived to gain
His freedom and was safe, would this bring pain?
Ah! would it not to dullest heart appear
Good tidings?
Yesterday I looked on one
Who lay as if asleep in perfect peace.
His long imprisonment for life was done.
Eternity's great freedom his release
Had brought. Yet they who loved him called him dead,
And wept, refusing to be comforted.
WHERE?
Y snowy eupatorium has droppedIts silver threads of petals in the night;
No signal told its blossoming had stopped
Its seed-films flutter silent, ghostly white:
No answer stirs the shining air,
As I ask, "Where?"
