Thought

There is no place at all by night or day,
Where I--who am of that hard tyrant Thought
The slave--can find security in aught,
But He, almighty, reaching me, doth lay
His hand upon me there, so rough a way
Assaulting me,--however I am caught,
Walking or standing still--that for support
I sometimes lean on anything I may:
Then when he hath me, ease is none from him
Till he do out his strength with me; cold sweat
Comes o’er my body and on every limb;
My arm falls weak as from a fierce embrace;
And, ere he leaveth me, he will have set
A great eternal mark upon my face.