French Leave

No servile little fear shall daunt my will
This morning. I have courage steeled to say
I will be lazy, conqueringly still,
I will not lose the hours in toil this day.

The roaring world without, careless of souls,
Shall leave me to my placid dream of rest,
My four walls shield me from its shouting ghouls,
And all its hates have fled my quiet breast.

And I will loll here resting, wide awake,
Dead to the world of work, the world of love,
I laze contented just for dreaming's sake
With not the slightest urge to think or move.

How tired unto death, how tired I was!
Now for a day I put my burdens by,
And like a child amidst the meadow grass
Under the southern sun, I languid lie

And feel the bed about me kindly deep,
My strength ooze gently from my hollow bones,
My worried brain drift aimlessly to sleep,
Like softening to a song of tuneful tones.

Poem topics: , , , , , , , , ,

Rate this poem:

Add French Leave poem to your favorites

Add Poet Claude McKay to your favorites

Popular Poets

Alice Corbin (1 poems)
Herbert Asquith (5 poems)
Alfred Castner King (57 poems)
Henry Rowe (2 poems)
William Bell Scott (1 poems)
Mark Van Doren (3 poems)
Cristina Teodor (102 poems)
Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts (0 poems)
Kathleen Jessie Raine (1 poems)
William Sidney Walker (1 poems)

Popular Poems

Bessie’s Boil, by Robert Service
Mustering Song, by Banjo Paterson
Sonnet 08, by Robert Southey
To My Lady Berkeley, by Anne Killigrew
Seringapatam, by Henry Newbolt
The Wanderer, by Alan Seeger
The Songs Of The Dead Men To The Three Dancers, by Robinson Jeffers
Silentium, by Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
I Know The Face Of Falsehood And Her Tongue, by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Sonnet Lxi: Since There's No Help, by Michael Drayton