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heart, that dost forever strain
 * Against forbidding bars that still withhold
 * Fulfilment of thy hope—thy dream untold,

Thy longing passion spends itself in vain! No distant heights there are for thee to gain,
 * The azure deeps where white wings may unfold
 * In glimmering dawns or flaming sunset-gold

Unknown of thee shall evermore remain.

For by thee in thy prison Something stands—
 * Some higher shape of self, mayhap—with face

Compassionate as an angel's, but whose hands
 * Shall never set thee free—nay, yesternight
 * It stood long, silent, gazing into space,
 * Then made more fast the doors that bar thy flight.