Poemetry: In Amber, Trapped

In amber, trapped, I cling to life,

though by no stone am I dight;

no, this gem, in which I am snared,

gleams greater than amber to the sun bared.

Her eyes, her eyes! in their lucent maze

I am lost and blind, dumb and dazed,

but, in joy and glory captured,

I wander in blissful rapture.

No cod contents in the fisher’s hook,

nor the deer in the hunter’s look,

but here I cheer at my trapper’s bait,

exulting in my captive fate.

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