|
His gaze, going past those bars, has got so misted |
|
with tiredness, it can take in nothing more. |
|
He feels as though a thousand bars existed, |
|
and no more world beyond them than before. |
|
Those supply powerful paddings, turning there |
|
in tiniest circles, well might be |
|
the dance of forces round a centre where |
|
some mighty will stands paralyticly. |
|
Just now and then the pupils' noiseless shutter |
|
is lifted. - Then an image will indart, |
|
down through the limbs' intensive stillness flutter, |
|
and end its being in the heart. |
