The Cage

The Cage written by Walter de la Mare

Motley and Other Poems (1918)

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Why did you flutter in vain hope, poor bird,
       Hard-pressed in your small cage of clay?
'Twas but a sweet, false echo that you heard,
                Caught only a feint of day.

Still is the night all dark, a homeless dark.
       Burn yet the unanswering stars. And silence brings
The same sea's desolate surge--sans bound or mark--
                Of all your wanderings.

Fret now no more; be still. Those steadfast eyes,
       Those folded hands, they cannot set you free;
Only with beauty wake wild memories--
       Sorrow for where you are, for where you would be.

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