James Stephens

DID you think, old Grizzly-Face! to frighten me?—

To frighten me who fronted you before

Times out of mind,

When, through that sudden door,

You took and bound and cast me to the sea

Far from my kind,

Far from all friendly hands? Now I

Tremble no longer at your whisper, at your lie.

I go with you, but only till the end

Of one small hour, and when the hour is done

I shall again

Arise and leap and run

From the wind-swept, icy caves: I shall ascend,

I shall attain

To the pearly sky and the open door and the infinite sun

And find again my comrades with me, every one.

So, once more, here are my hands to wind

Your cords about; here are my feet to tie

Straitly and fast;

And here, on either eye,

Press your strong fingers until I am blind:

Now, at the last,

Heave me upon your shoulder, whispering sly,

As you so oft before have whispered, your dark lie.

A day dawns surely when you will not dare

To come to me—then you will hide away

In your dark lands;

Then you will pray,

You will snarl and tremble when I seek you there

To bind your hands,

To whisper truth where you have whispered lies,

To press my mighty fingers down upon your eyes.