I have a longing to be free;
The soul that in me hides
Its mouldering fires, unwillingly
Its day of liberation bides.

Clouds, that above the flowery earth
Float onward in the air,
Rejoice as each day hath its birth,
They hurry on they list not where.

Birds, that along their gladsome way
Flutter in wavy flight,
Pipe in their arbours all the day,
And rest upon their branch at night;

Stars, like a fleet of glittering sail
On the upper ocean driven,
At the western haven never fail
To cease from earth and enter heaven;

And then forth issuing from the east,
When night--winds softly blow,
They ride in order bright and blest,
Their clustered myriads none may know:

Only this breath of life divine
May not escape away,
Nor move in the gold rays that shine
Around the blessed eye of day.

Only this bird of sweetest strain
Must hide its notes in gloom;
Only this purest flower from stain
In secret places veil its bloom.

Only this star of clearest light
Hath not its course above;
But, undistinguished from the night,
It dwells on earth, and wins no love.