名人诗歌|The Hawk

Let him be hooded^{3 or caged}

Till the yellow eye has grown mild，

For larder^{4 and spit are bare，}

The old cook enraged^5，

The scullion gone wild.

I will not be clapped in a hood^2，

Nor a cage， nor alight upon wrist，

Now I have learnt to be proud

Hovering^{6 over the wood}

In the broken mist

Or tumbling cloud.

What tumbling cloud did you cleave^7，

Yellow-eyed hawk of the mind，

Last evening？ that I， who had sat

Dumbfounded before a knave^8，

Should give to my friend

A pretence^{9 of wit.}