Poem by Amy Lowell

The Starling

”`I can’t get 
out’, said the starling.”
Sterne’s 
`Sentimental Journey’.

Forever the impenetrable wall
Of self confines my poor rebellious soul,
I never see the towering white clouds roll
Before a sturdy wind, save through the small
Barred window of my jail.  I live a thrall
With all my outer life a clipped, square hole,
Rectangular; a fraction of a scroll
Unwound and winding like a worsted ball.
My thoughts are grown uneager and depressed
Through being always mine, my fancy’s wings
Are moulted and the feathers blown away.
I weary for desires never guessed,
For alien passions, strange imaginings,
To be some other person for a day.

1. Teatro Bambino. Dublin, N. H.
2. Red Slippers
3. Reaping
4. Frankincense and Myrrh
5. Storm-Racked

Robert Buchanan The Starling ("THE little lame tailor")

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