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.