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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  Lily A. Long

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

Immured

Lily A. Long

WITHIN this narrow cell that I call “me”,

I was imprisoned ere the worlds began,

And all the worlds must run, as first they ran,

In silver star-dust, ere I shall be free.

I beat my hands against the walls and find

It is my breast I beat, O bond and blind!