Page:Songs of the Road Doyle.djvu/85



The grime is on the window pane,

Pale the London sunbeams fall,

And show the smudge of mildew stain,

Which lies on the distempered wall.

I am a cripple, as you see,

And here I lie, a broken thing,

But God has given flight to me,

That mocks the swiftest eagle wing.

For if I will to see or hear,

Quick as the thought my spirit flies,

And lo! the picture flashes clear,

Through all the mist of centuries.