Classic Poem

F REE

O WERE your heart not wide, dear,
And were your soul not high,
And were not both so deep, too,
Deep as the April sky,
I should not find love freedom,
But know a need to range
All heaven and hell — a prisoner
Pining for space and change.

But since there's depth within you
To hang my moon and stars,
Since I have not to beat vain wings
Against offending bars,
I find all other spaces
That lie beyond our love
Are prisons — all alluring worlds
Below me or above.