Tormented

I will not reason, wrestle here with you, Though you pursue and worry me about; As well put forth my swarthy arm to stop The wild wind howling, darkly mad without. The night is yours for revels; day will light. I will not fight you, bold and tigerish, For I am weak, while you are gaining strength; Peace! cease tormenting me to have your wish. But when you’re filled and sated with the flesh, I shall go swiftly to the silver stream, To cleanse my body for the spirit’s sake, And sun my limbs, and close my eyes to dream.