The Laws of Verse
Dear laws, come to my breast!
Take all my frame, and make your close arms meet
Around me; and so ruled, so warmed, so pressed,
I breathe, aware; I feel my wild heart beat.
Dear laws, be wings to me!
The feather merely floats. O be it heard
Through weight of life—the skylark’s gravity—
That I am not a feather, but a bird.