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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=115560" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Prisoner</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the dungeon-crypts idly did I stray,<br>Reckless of the lives wasting there away;<br>'Draw the ponderous bars! open, Warder stern!'<br>He dared not say me nay—the hinges harshly turn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Our guests are darkly lodged,' I whisper'd, gazing through<br>The vault, whose grated eye showed heaven more gray than blue;<br>(This was when glad Spring laughed in awaking pride);<br>'Ay, darkly lodged enough!' returned my sullen guide.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then, God forgive my youth; forgive my careless tongue;<br>I scoffed, as the chill chains on the damp flagstones rung:<br>'Confined in triple walls, art thou so much to fear,<br>That we must bind thee down and clench thy fetters here?'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The captive raised her face; it was as soft and mild<br>As sculptured marble saint, or slumbering unwean'd child;<br>It was so soft and mild, it was so sweet and fair,<br>Pain could not trace a line, nor grief a shadow there!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The captive raised her hand and pressed it to her brow;<br>'I have been struck,' she said, 'and I am suffering now;<br>Yet these are little worth, your bolts and irons strong;<br>And, were they forged in steel, they could not hold me long.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hoarse laughed the jailor grim: 'Shall I be won to hear;<br>Dost think, fond, dreaming wretch, that I shall grant thy prayer?<br>Or, better still, wilt melt my master's heart with groans?<br>Ah! sooner might the sun thaw down these granite stones.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'My master's voice is low, his aspect bland and kind,<br>But hard as hardest flint the soul that lurks behind;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And I am rough and rude, yet not more rough to see<br>Than is the hidden ghost that has its home in me.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">About her lips there played a smile of almost scorn,<br>'My friend,' she gently said, 'you have not heard me mourn;<br>When you my kindred's lives, my lost life, can restore,<br>Then may I weep and sue,—but never, friend, before!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Still, let my tyrants know, I am not doomed to wear<br>Year after year in gloom, and desolate despair;<br>A messenger of Hope comes every night to me,<br>And offers for short life, eternal liberty.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'He comes with western winds, with evening's wandering airs,<br>With that clear dusk of heaven that brings the thickest stars.<br>Winds take a pensive tone, and stars a tender fire,<br>And visions rise, and change, that kill me with desire.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Desire for nothing known in my maturer years,<br>When Joy grew mad with awe, at counting future tears.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When, if my spirit's sky was full of flashes warm,<br>I knew not whence they came, from sun or thunder-storm.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'But, first, a hush of peace—a soundless calm descends;<br>The struggle of distress, and fierce impatience ends;<br>Mute music soothes my breast—unuttered harmony,<br>That I could never dream, till Earth was lost to me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Then dawns the Invisible; the Unseen its truth reveals;<br>My outward sense is gone, my inward essence feels:<br>Its wings are almost free—its home, its harbour found,<br>Measuring the gulph, it stoops and dares the final bound,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Oh! dreadful is the check—intense the agony—<br>When the ear begins to hear, and the eye begins to see;<br>When the pulse begins to throb, the brain to think again;<br>The soul to feel the flesh, and the flesh to feel the chain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Yet I would lose no sting, would wish no torture less;<br>The more that anguish racks, the earlier it will bless;<br>And robed in fires of hell, or bright with heavenly shine,<br>If it but herald death, the vision is divine!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She ceased to speak, and we, unanswering, turned to go—<br>We had no further power to work the captive woe:<br>Her cheek, her gleaming eye, declared that man had given<br>A sentence, unapproved, and overruled by Heaven.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Emily+Bront%C3%AB">Emily Brontë</a> from <i>Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell</i><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=115560" data-title="The Prisoner de Emily Brontë" data-description="In the dungeon-crypts idly did I stray,/Reckless of the lives wasting there away;/'Draw the ponderous bars! open, Warder stern!'/He dared not say me nay—the hinges harshly turn./'Our guests are darkly lodged,' I whisper'd, gazing through/The vau..."></div>
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