THE GAOLER
To be free, to be alone,Is a joy that I have not known.To a keeper who never sleepsI was given at the hour of birthBy the governors of earth;And so well his watch he keeps,Though I leave no sleight untried,That he will not quit my side.How often, in bygone years,I have passioned, and sworn with tearsThat I loathed him and all his ways!He is silent; he smiles; he stays.When I close my eyes at night,His face is my latest sight.That dark face is mine own!He walks in my dreams at will;When I wake, he is with me still.To be free, to be alone,Is a joy that I have not known.I have cried to the winds, the sea,“Oh, help me, for ye are free!”I have thought to escape away,But his hand on my shoulder lay.From the hills and the lifting starsHe has borne me back to bars;With the spell of my murmured nameHe has captived and kept me tame.It is whispered that he and IIn a single hour shall die,As we were born, ’tis said,I shall lie in selfless peace;For him, too, is surcease,Rest, and a quiet bed.Self bindeth not the dead.Somewhat otherwise I believe;For a hope is astir in meThat when consciousness one day fillsWith a splendour I scarce conceive,—More than the winds and sea,More than the stars and hills,—I indeed shall escape awayForever in that great day;I shall have no heed to giveUnto aught that would call me back:He shall pass like the sunrise rack,He shall vanish; but I shall live!
To be free, to be alone,Is a joy that I have not known.To a keeper who never sleepsI was given at the hour of birthBy the governors of earth;And so well his watch he keeps,Though I leave no sleight untried,That he will not quit my side.How often, in bygone years,I have passioned, and sworn with tearsThat I loathed him and all his ways!He is silent; he smiles; he stays.When I close my eyes at night,His face is my latest sight.That dark face is mine own!He walks in my dreams at will;When I wake, he is with me still.To be free, to be alone,Is a joy that I have not known.I have cried to the winds, the sea,“Oh, help me, for ye are free!”I have thought to escape away,But his hand on my shoulder lay.From the hills and the lifting starsHe has borne me back to bars;With the spell of my murmured nameHe has captived and kept me tame.It is whispered that he and IIn a single hour shall die,As we were born, ’tis said,I shall lie in selfless peace;For him, too, is surcease,Rest, and a quiet bed.Self bindeth not the dead.Somewhat otherwise I believe;For a hope is astir in meThat when consciousness one day fillsWith a splendour I scarce conceive,—More than the winds and sea,More than the stars and hills,—I indeed shall escape awayForever in that great day;I shall have no heed to giveUnto aught that would call me back:He shall pass like the sunrise rack,He shall vanish; but I shall live!
To be free, to be alone,Is a joy that I have not known.
To be free, to be alone,
Is a joy that I have not known.
To a keeper who never sleepsI was given at the hour of birthBy the governors of earth;And so well his watch he keeps,Though I leave no sleight untried,That he will not quit my side.
To a keeper who never sleeps
I was given at the hour of birth
By the governors of earth;
And so well his watch he keeps,
Though I leave no sleight untried,
That he will not quit my side.
How often, in bygone years,I have passioned, and sworn with tearsThat I loathed him and all his ways!He is silent; he smiles; he stays.
How often, in bygone years,
I have passioned, and sworn with tears
That I loathed him and all his ways!
He is silent; he smiles; he stays.
When I close my eyes at night,His face is my latest sight.That dark face is mine own!He walks in my dreams at will;When I wake, he is with me still.To be free, to be alone,Is a joy that I have not known.
When I close my eyes at night,
His face is my latest sight.
That dark face is mine own!
He walks in my dreams at will;
When I wake, he is with me still.
To be free, to be alone,
Is a joy that I have not known.
I have cried to the winds, the sea,“Oh, help me, for ye are free!”I have thought to escape away,But his hand on my shoulder lay.
I have cried to the winds, the sea,
“Oh, help me, for ye are free!”
I have thought to escape away,
But his hand on my shoulder lay.
From the hills and the lifting starsHe has borne me back to bars;With the spell of my murmured nameHe has captived and kept me tame.
From the hills and the lifting stars
He has borne me back to bars;
With the spell of my murmured name
He has captived and kept me tame.
It is whispered that he and IIn a single hour shall die,As we were born, ’tis said,I shall lie in selfless peace;For him, too, is surcease,Rest, and a quiet bed.Self bindeth not the dead.
It is whispered that he and I
In a single hour shall die,
As we were born, ’tis said,
I shall lie in selfless peace;
For him, too, is surcease,
Rest, and a quiet bed.
Self bindeth not the dead.
Somewhat otherwise I believe;For a hope is astir in meThat when consciousness one day fillsWith a splendour I scarce conceive,—More than the winds and sea,More than the stars and hills,—I indeed shall escape awayForever in that great day;I shall have no heed to giveUnto aught that would call me back:He shall pass like the sunrise rack,He shall vanish; but I shall live!
Somewhat otherwise I believe;
For a hope is astir in me
That when consciousness one day fills
With a splendour I scarce conceive,—
More than the winds and sea,
More than the stars and hills,—
I indeed shall escape away
Forever in that great day;
I shall have no heed to give
Unto aught that would call me back:
He shall pass like the sunrise rack,
He shall vanish; but I shall live!