Poems (Cromwell)/The Lion
THE LION
I feel the lines of yellow sunlight burn
My body, alternating with each bar
Of shadow. Captive in my cage, I yearn
For the large river where somnambular
I drank at twilight, listening lest some star
Betray me quenching the salt blood. But far
Is the cool river! Golden sun-streaks burn
Athwart my body, in between each bar
Of shadow. Now I range in circular
Pursuit of my own power, now taciturn,
I lie. My refluent sinews fetters are;
And with reverberant fires, I lash, I spurn
This body which the yellow sun-streaks burn:
My passion mocks these lines of cinnabar.
My body, alternating with each bar
Of shadow. Captive in my cage, I yearn
For the large river where somnambular
I drank at twilight, listening lest some star
Betray me quenching the salt blood. But far
Is the cool river! Golden sun-streaks burn
Athwart my body, in between each bar
Of shadow. Now I range in circular
Pursuit of my own power, now taciturn,
I lie. My refluent sinews fetters are;
And with reverberant fires, I lash, I spurn
This body which the yellow sun-streaks burn:
My passion mocks these lines of cinnabar.