Being out of heart with government
I took a broken root to fling
Where the proud, wayward squirrel went,
Taking delight that he could spring;
And he, with that low whinnying sound
That is like laughter, sprang again
And so to the other tree at a bound.
Nor the tame will, nor timid brain,
Nor heavy knitting of the brow
Bread that fierce tooth and cleanly limb
And threw him up to laugh on the bough;
No government appointed him.
by W.B. Yeats
from Running to Paradise
Macmillan Company, 1962