The Eagle in the Cage
LIKE the years in gloomy dungeons, Like a funeral procession, Drags on slowly—O how slowly!— Drags Humanity's progression. Every move—a generation, Every step is marked by ages, As it cuts its thorny pathway Through history's crimson pages. Snail-like creeps Human progress; Eagle-like my days are flying; Ere it makes a footstep onward Sets my sun, alas—I'm dying. Onward, upward would I hurry, Where conditions would not bind me, And would haste the struggling mortals, Creeping up the hills behind me. But the way is blocked by Progress,— Ever young though stooped with age,— And I, his bleeding captive, I am the Eagle in the Cage.
Memory
O'ER Memory's tracks I still can seeMy home, in Childhood's Kingdom free,Where I castles built at mother's knee.When through Fancy's land I came and went,As to her tales mine ear I lent,Whilst the day without its light had spent.When on the tablet of mine heart—In graven lines that never marred—My lessons first she did impart.When the mystic veil from the Time to BeWas lifted whole 'fore my wandering e'e,And all the mysteries locked set free.And when my reason would fain rebel,I found a way my doubts to quell,And through my faith my fear dispel.