  O Freedom! whose pure soul and heart embrace Translates me into heaven, I draw for breath The joy of angels who have not known death. Child-like, I look up in thy loving face, Else gaze around and point, and curious place My hand on Mottoes, hung on high. One saith: "Beware, for he not with me scatterith." Its meaning comes to me with growth, like grace. Ah, as a youngster, on its mother's arm, Seeing a hideous thing approaching night, Will not lay down its head and shut its eye, But will with look and lung express alarm— My mind cries out in dread—when sea and sky Show dragons, tendencies that work thee harm. IIO Freedom! Up to whose raised hand the seas Leap, playful lions, or with head and main Across their paws lie couchant—it is pain To see thee whose heart beats are God's decrees, And vital breathings are infinities, Now check thy heart and hold thy breath to gain The smile and plaudit of a depths with bane In finger tips, while fawning on their knees. What! Think the tyrant, whose great soul is trade, Whose history, a crater, belching black And lurid, keeps glad Easter morning back From half the world—loves thee save to invade, As blackward planned? loves thee, along whose track March Human rights up to the stars parade? |
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