I cannot walk, but I can fly;
No roof can house me from the stars
No dwelling pen me in its bounds,
Nor keep me fast with locks and bars.
No narrow room my thoughts can cage,
No fetters hold my roving mind;
From these four walls that shut me in,
My soaring soul a way can find. . . .
And when the long, long day is done,
I clasp the dearest book of all,
And through the dim, sweet silences,
I hear my Father’s accents fall.
Then, though, in chains, yet I am free;
Beyond the pressure of my care,
Above earth’s night, my spirit mounts
On eagle wings of Faith and Prayer.
-Annie Johnson Flint