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!