The Starling

by Amy Lowell

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.