THE PADDOCK
—Live in them? I don’t live, I nearly die,
I’m all but choked with life that can’t get lived—
Strength that you can’t use hurts you....eats you....Oh,
Let go! Oh, let me out, out, I say!
This paddock’s but a paddock—I was born
Into a world! Let me out into it!
Paddock! Plains, mountains—Life! Oh, let me out!....
Let, or not let, I will get out! I will!
How, though? I can’t imagine. All day long
Most days, I puzzle; and at night I’ll lie
Sleepless for hours, thinking of things, and planning.
Then, Ill forget a little—not for long,
And hardly ever now. Even when I do,
It goes on; it’s a living thing, it grows
Even while it sleeps. And then there’ll come the time
When it’ll wake! and seethe so, urging, urging—
That, ’spite the pain, I’m very nearly happy—
It feels so strong, so irresistible,
I feel it can’t be stopp’d very much longer,
’Twill make its way....Yes, I begin to trust it
More than myself; I guess it’s like those waves,
Mirrie and I, what years ago! at Aunt’s,
Tried blocking back. Oh, how we trudged and toil’d,
Time after time! what sand we shovell’d up!
What pebbles, logs and stones we stagger’d under!....
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