by Elinor Wylie
He shall be my jailer
Who sets me free
From shackles frailer
Then the wind spun sea.
He shall be my teacher
Who cries "Be brave,"
To a weeping creature
In a glass-walled cave
But he shall be my brother
Whose mocking despair
Dives headlong to smother
in the weeds of my hair.
Last updated January 14, 2019