Silent wood or strident street,
Swifter than the breezes skimming.

Now through paths of loveliness,
Now through ranks of shameful riot,
Onward evermore they press,
Fledged with folly and disquiet.

O'er the Ocean's sounding deep
Now they flash like fiery levin;
Now at one vast bound they leap
Up from earth into the Heaven.

Thus afar and near they roam
On their race of idle folly;
Till at last to reason's home
They return right melancholy.

Would you bind them wrist to wrist--
Foot to foot the truants shackle,
From your toils away they twist
Into air with giddy cackle.

Crack of whip or edge of steel
Cannot hold them in your keeping;
With the wriggle of an eel
From your grasp they still go leaping.

Never yet was fetter found,
Never lock contrived, to hold them;