That god forbid that made me first your slave, I should in thought control your times of pleasure, Or at your hand the account of hours to crave, Being your vassal, bound to stay your leisure! O, let me suffer, being at your beck, The imprison'd absence of your liberty; And patience, tame to sufferance, bide each cheque, Without accusing you of injury. Be where you list, your charter is so strong That you yourself may privilege your time To what you will; to you it doth belong Yourself to pardon of self-doing crime. I am to wait, though waiting so be hell; Not blame your pleasure, be it ill or well. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE OLD VICARAGE, GRANTCHESTER by RUPERT BROOKE THIRD BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 27. LOVE, AND NEVER FEAR by THOMAS CAMPION THE STORY OF AUGUSTUS WHO WOULD NOT HAVE ANY SOUP by HEINRICH HOFFMANN KEEPING ENDLESS HOLIDAY by TITUS PETRONIUS NIGER PROMETHEUS BOUND: PROMETHEUS THE TEACHER OF MEN by AESCHYLUS GOOD LUCK by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS SUNSET IN THE DEVIL'S GLEN: COUNTY WICKLOW by EDMUND JOHN ARMSTRONG |