As I go inland
Lo! my heart drooping
As a bird’s in the grove when the shadow falls swooping
Of the hawk’s wing down from a cloudless sky.
For the hills creep together,
Murmuring, conspiring;
Solitude, poverty, sorrow desiring
For men that are born to dream and to die.
A prison land-locked,
A grave for the living,
And the ancient warders unsleeping, unforgiving,
Cordon after cordon, massing behind me.
I am in peril. I have left the sea.
_REGINALD HARRIS_
(_C. C. C._)