For Moveless Limbs No Pity I Crave, That Never Were Swift! Still All I Prize, Laughter And Thought And Friends, I Have; No Fool To Heave Luxurious Sighs For The Woods And Hills That I Never Knew. The More Excellent Way'S Yet Mine! And You Flower-Laden Come To The Clean White Cell, And We Talk As Ever, Am I Not The Same? With Our Hearts We Love, Immutable, You Without Pity, I Without Shame. We Talk As Of Old; As Of Old You Go Out Under The Sky, And Laughing, I Know, Flit Through The Streets, Your Heart All Me; Till You Gain The World Beyond The Town. Then, I Fade From Your Heart, Quietly; And Your Fleet Steps Quicken. The Strong Down Smiles You Welcome There; The Woods That Love You Close Lovely And Conquering Arms Above You. O Ever-Moving, O Lithe And Free! Fast In My Linen Prison I Press On Impassable Bars, Or Emptily Laugh In My Great Loneliness. And Still In The White Neat Bed I Strive Most Impotently Against That Gyve; Being Less Now Than A Thought, Even, To You Alone With Your Hills And Heaven.