One day I dreamed (though I did not sleep)
That a half-man called on my shaded bower
And upon me laid such a heavy load
That it taxes me every waking hour:
Liberty is a transitory state.
One night awake (for I do not dream)
I was called upon by his other half
He oppressed my heart with a freedom-cry
Which within me rings as an epitaph:
Stasis is slavery.
Now my days and nights are no longer mine
As their burdens flow from my fountain-pen
For they haunt me still (though they are not here)
And I wish no longer to know half-men.