Poetry Archives

Loose me and let me go!
  I am not yours.
I do not know
  Your dark name ev’n, O Powers
That out of the deep rise
  And wave your arms
  To weave strange charms.

Though the snare of eyes
  You weave for me,
As a pool lies
  In wait for the moon when she
Out of the deep will rise;
  And though you set
  Like mist your net;

And though my feet you catch,
  O dark, strange Powers,
You may not snatch
  My soul, or call it yours.
Out of your snare I rise
  And pass your charms,
  Nor feel your harms.

You loose me and I go:
  O see the arms
Spread for me! lo,
  His lips break your charms.
From the deep did He rise
  And round me set
  His Love for net.