Page:Underwoods, Stevenson, 1887.djvu/95

 XXXVII

body which my dungeon is,

And yet my parks and palaces:—

Which is so great that there I go

All the day long to and fro,

And when the night begins to fall

Throw down my bed and sleep, while all

The building hums with wakefulness—

Even as a child of savages

When evening takes her on her way,

(She having roamed a summer's day

Along the mountain-sides and scalp)

Sleeps in an antre of that alp:—

Which is so broad and high that there,

As in the topless fields of air,

My fancy soars like to a kite