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."

by Helen Hunt Jackson

Comments (16)

Human feeling in such beautiful way here created into a poem and nice.
......if only we could have peace for everyone...then life would truly be a dream....
its a good flawless poem
Alfred Edward Housman, a scholar of great note, a man who felt so deeply, and on this page he wrote, of the surging tide of feeling, that hemmed him to the ground, ah, what a man was Housman, who lives on his renown.
1] Let us endure an hour and see injustice done. 2] Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again? 3] Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle, Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong. Much perhaps to bag the coins for our journey. Nice put.
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