Nay, bid me not my cares to leave,
Who cannot from their shadow flee.
I do but win a short reprieve,
'Scaping to pleasure and to thee.
I may, at best, a moment's grace,
And grant of liberty, obtain;
Respited for a little space,
To go back into bonds again.
Nay, Bid Me Not My Cares To Leave
William Watson
(1)
Poem topics: space, pleasure, grant, shadow, moment, short, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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