By David Kelsall    david.kelsall1@virgin.net
Date: 19 April 1999

Free

oh let me, you whose voice the willows stir,
>who in your sweet abundance wash me o'er,
>whose lissom limbs a craven passion wear
>and potency and pleasure richly store
>
>oh let me when the day has sadly past
>when words of softness cool my brow anew
>when in your Templed temptress arms at last
>i find again the loveliness i knew.
>
>oh let me ever reach my sleeping thus
>your hands in mine and flesh against me warm
>in wrapt ennobled passion that is us
>that i may thus escape all worldly harm