Out of Place
Cell, poor little cell,
Distended with pain,
Torn with the pressure
Of currents of effort
Resisted in vain;
Feeling sweep by you
The stream of nutrition,
Unable to take;
Crushed flat and inactive,
While shudder across you
Great forces that wake;
Alone—while far voices
Across all the shouting
Call you to your own;
Held fast, fastened close,
Surrounded, enveloped,
How you starve there alone!
Cell, poor little cell,
Let the pain pass—don’t hold it!
Let the effort pass through you!
Let go! And give way!
You will find your own place;
You will join your own people;
See the light of your day!