I do not light from bed
 mornings as once I have.
Something is that holds me back,
  although I still rise early.

Something is that holds me back.

How pleasant still to watch the sea
 from high upon the terrace;
To feel the sun angling through the clouds,
To make love in the daylight.

Something is that holds me back,
 That sweet is in the smoke of chimneys
  purpling the twilight;
 The sun holding forth from behind the clouds
 as he trails into the offing.

Something is that holds me back.
 Like a bead that travels slowly down
the inside of my thigh.