I struck the board, and cried, "No more! <br />I will abroad. <br />What! shall I ever sigh and pine? <br />My lines and life are free; free as the road, <br />Loose as the wind, as large as store. <br />Shall I be still in suit? <br />Have I no harvest but a thorn <br />To let me blood, and not restore <br />What I have lost with cordial fruit? <br />Sure there was wine <br />Before my sighs did dry it; there was corn <br />Before my tears did drown it. <br />Is the year only lost to me? <br />Have I no bays to crown it? <br />No flowers, no garlands gay? all blasted? <br />All wasted? <br />Not so, my heart; but there is fruit, <br />And thou hast hands. <br />Recover all thy sigh-blown age <br />On double pleasures; leave thy cold dispute <br />Of what is fit and not; forsake thy cage, <br />Thy rope of sands, <br />Which petty thoughts have made, and made to thee <br />Good cable, to enforce and draw, <br />And be thy law, <br />While thou didst wink and wouldst not see. <br />Away! take heed; <br />I will abroad. <br />Call in thy death's-head there; tie up thy fears; <br />He that forbears <br />To suit and serve his need <br />Deserves his load." <br />But as I rav'd, and grew more fierce and wild <br />At every word, <br />Me thoughts I heard one calling, "Child"; <br />And I replied, "My Lord."<br /><br />George Herbert<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-collar/
