Aleta mentions in her tender letters, <br />Among a chain of quaint and touching things, <br />That you are feeble, weighted down with fetters, <br />And given to strange deeds and mutterings. <br />No longer without trace or thought of fear, <br />Do you leap to and ride the rebel roan; <br />But have become the victim of grim care, <br />With three brown beauties to support alone. <br />But none the less will you be in my mind, <br />Wild May that cantered by the risky ways, <br />With showy head-cloth flirting in the wind, <br />From market in the glad December days; <br />Wild May of whom even other girls could rave <br />Before sex tamed your spirit, made you slave.<br /><br />Claude McKay<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/wild-may/
