Her mothers and foremothers for protection sought,
Ere sought,
She is but sought protect and indeed is cared for,
Alas, is cared,
The greatest asset of hers the abject of welfare,
In God’s will-
May shant never her Mary give leave for Virtue,
Alas, my dear,
Alas, my dear I am but bird in cage for strife,
Though I’m faint,
Since I’m hinder took, so give me Reason here,
To breathe hot air,
Perhaps I am but prepared for coals of fire,
Fear practice hire;
For practised air is but freedom’s domain,
Yet is not mine so wane?
Perchance I am but prisoned in virtue divine,
For open air over wine,
Echoes through night are cries I here whisper,
Forsake me now, my fair-
Nay, for open air I need to know how I breathe,
Pity me, and leave;
Now I’ve left, and now I shall never return,
This much I turn,
Rather I be the poorest beggar in freer land,
In land so grand
Becomes the sand I crave that touches the sea,
In whom hence I can never falter to see.

Category:
Counterpoint, Family, Poetry
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