. Held in the pens Of womb, little one Squirms to see light, Before the bars of crib Encroach and bind one Growing into childhood. Then to be left off, bounded, For chaste schools to yearn how To keep such place whilst learning, Never knowing that old, bracing sun Is all around until frightful bell— calls Recess, for these are the walled gardens We made for ourselves, the coldest brick And mortar chambers we place as lambs Are encased, when finally we are pushed Into the dark, the drabness, of the drowning Work a daze whirled, the open prison of our lives.