Peonage

OW tired the Recording Angel must beginTo be of setting down the same old sin,The same old folly, year out and year in,Since I knew how to err, against my name!It makes me sick at heart and sore with shameTo think of that monotony of blame,For things I fancied once that I should beQuits with in doing; but at last I seeAll that I did became a part of me,And cannot be put from me, but must stillRemain a potent will within my will,Holding me debtor, while I live, to ill.