THE GAOLER
To be free, to be alone,
Is a joy that I have not known.
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 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.
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 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 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 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!