Poems (Storrie)/Emancipation
Emancipation.
At last I free my spirit from your sweetness And purge my heart of your so potent spell, No cobweb fancies linger, with completeness I've conquered all the arts your eyes compel.
No magic lies for me in your blue glances, No subtle music lures me when you speak, No more the blood through throbbing pulses dances Because an eyelash trembles on your cheek.
Yes, I am free! And marble is not colder To sunlight than my heart in its new calm. Yes, I am free—but do not touch my shoulder Nor lay in mine a little roseleaf palm. And—weeping? Dearest, I am only free To seek again such sweet captivity.