freedom (wiersz klasyka)

 Freedom

WHAT freeman knoweth freedom? Never he

Whose father's father through long lives have reigned

O'er kingdoms which mere heritage attained.

Though from his youth to age he roam as free

As winds, he dreams not freedom's ecstacy.

But he whose birth was in a nation chained

For centuries; where every breath was drained

From breasts of slaves which knew not there could be

Such thing as freedom,--he beholds the light

Burst, dazzling; though the glory blind his sight

He knows the joy. Fools laugh because he reels

And weilds confusedly his infant will;

The wise man watching with a heart that feels Says: "Cure for freedom's harms is freedom still."