I long for eagle’s plumes to flee away.
I long to cast this cumbrous clay aside,
And the impure, unholy thoughts that cling
To the sad bosom, torn with care and pride;
I would soar upward, on unfetter’d wing,
Far through the chambers of the peaceful skies,
Where the high fount of summer brightness lies!
Willis Gaylord Clark, 1810–1841.
PORTUGUESE CANZONET.
OF CAMOENS.