Explore "Sonnets" by Helen Hay Whitney on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
As a pale child, hemmed in by windy rain, / Patiently turns to touch his well-known toys, / Playing as children play who make no noise, / Yet happy in a way; then sighs again, / To watch the world across the storm-dim pane, / And sees with wistful eyes glad girls and boys / Who romp beneath the rain's unlicensed joys, / And feels wild longings sweep his gentle brain.
So I, contented with my flowers for stars, / Stroll in my fair, walled garden happily, / Knowing no gladder game till, shrill and sweet, / I hear life's cry ring down the silent street, / And press my face against the sunlit bars / To watch the joyous spirits who are free.