Sonnet One
Breach not the fragile peace of sleeping men,
Admit no light to prize apart their eyes;
Let life tiptoe past, should it pass again
The shuttered, shadowed fastness of their lives.
They shun the sun and wake up in the dark
Where freedom's voice doth echo-like expire,
Of truth stamp out in haste its merest spark
Lest sparks take hold and light the night with fire.
Fling wide the door but be ye not surprised
If they should balk, or fight to keep their cage,
For safe it seems and homely there inside
Those dungeon walls and peaceful as the grave.
But even cages rust and walls decay
And in the end 'tis worms shall have their way
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Poetry
