Page:Tristram of Lyonesse and other poems (IA tristramoflyonesswinrich).pdf/363

 By slavery my sense is corrupted, My soul not fit to be free: I would fain be controlled, interrupted, Compelled as a thrall may be.

For fault of spur and of bridle I tire of my stall to death: My sail flaps joyless and idle For want of a small child's breath.