Poem by William Watson

* * *

Nay, bid me not my cares to leave,
  Who cannot from their shadow flee.
I do but win a short reprieve,
  'Scaping to pleasure and to thee.

I may, at best, a moment's grace,
  And grant of liberty, obtain;
Respited for a little space,
  To go back into bonds again.

1. Thy Voice from Inmost Dreamland Calls
2. Liberty Rejected
3. The Mock Self
4. Under the Dark and Piny Steep
5. When Birds Were Songless

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