Lines in Pleasant Places Rhythmics of many moods and quantities. Wise and otherwise |
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A PUSH FOR FREEDOM. |
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 | Lines in Pleasant Places |  |
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A PUSH FOR FREEDOM.
A hope of freedom! Thank the favoring fates
That left ajar my grated door,
Through which the sun his ray doth pour,
As if to light me where sweet freedom waits,
Outside, to give me place,
'Mid scenes of bliss and grace,
Unchecked, unhindered by vile prison gates.
That left ajar my grated door,
Through which the sun his ray doth pour,
As if to light me where sweet freedom waits,
Outside, to give me place,
'Mid scenes of bliss and grace,
Unchecked, unhindered by vile prison gates.
How soft and cool there fall
The shadows on the wall!
And the sweet honeysuckle's spray
Tempts me with motion gay,
As 'twere a voice to me:
“Now is the time to flee!
This open door will set you free,
And, once abroad, no hand shall check your way.”
Even yon tiny sparrow
Struts and mocks me in my confines narrow,
Cocking his eye up roguishly to mine,
While plucking at some object on the vine.
The wind among the bushes,
The flower that nods and blushes,
The glad green of the trees,
The humming of the bees,
All, all unite
To lure my faltering flight
To the broad fields beyond of freedom and delight.
The shadows on the wall!
And the sweet honeysuckle's spray
Tempts me with motion gay,
As 'twere a voice to me:
“Now is the time to flee!
This open door will set you free,
And, once abroad, no hand shall check your way.”
Even yon tiny sparrow
Struts and mocks me in my confines narrow,
Cocking his eye up roguishly to mine,
While plucking at some object on the vine.
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The flower that nods and blushes,
The glad green of the trees,
The humming of the bees,
All, all unite
To lure my faltering flight
To the broad fields beyond of freedom and delight.
And shall these be denied?
Sweet lady, turn your eyes aside,
And the new thought that springs
Shall lend support to wings
Too long in freedom's offices untried.
Sweet lady, turn your eyes aside,
And the new thought that springs
Shall lend support to wings
Too long in freedom's offices untried.
One step—that's all—and in my grasp the prize!
I do not ask me, “Is it wise
To leave the seed, the perch, the gentle eyes
That sought my good,
The plenitude
That my fair jail with benefit bestrewed,
For Freedom's chance?”
The gilded jail is but a jail,
And the contracted limit of its pale
Annuls each qualifying circumstance.
I do not ask me, “Is it wise
To leave the seed, the perch, the gentle eyes
That sought my good,
The plenitude
That my fair jail with benefit bestrewed,
For Freedom's chance?”
The gilded jail is but a jail,
And the contracted limit of its pale
Annuls each qualifying circumstance.
How long I've struggled with the cruel wires
That kept me from the goal of my desires!—
With pain of soul
Received the dole
So kindly given, the while I've striven,
But, lacking freedom, lacked the whole!
And now, that open door!
One noiseless step the portal o'er,
And I am free
In the glorious light of Liberty!—
The freedom self-attained,
And not a boon thrown grudgingly—
A beggar's alms, unblest, and thankless gained!
That kept me from the goal of my desires!—
With pain of soul
Received the dole
So kindly given, the while I've striven,
But, lacking freedom, lacked the whole!
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One noiseless step the portal o'er,
And I am free
In the glorious light of Liberty!—
The freedom self-attained,
And not a boon thrown grudgingly—
A beggar's alms, unblest, and thankless gained!
Sweet lady, wake! awake!
My sunlit plumes I shake
On the high trellis, in the open air,
The sky above my head, and everywhere
Is limitless scope
For the free wing's boldest hope!
Call me not ingrate, lady; I but take
That is mine own.
At morn and eve I'll sing, for your sweet sake,
A grateful tribute from my airy throne,
That may for disappointment part atone.
My sunlit plumes I shake
On the high trellis, in the open air,
The sky above my head, and everywhere
Is limitless scope
For the free wing's boldest hope!
Call me not ingrate, lady; I but take
That is mine own.
At morn and eve I'll sing, for your sweet sake,
A grateful tribute from my airy throne,
That may for disappointment part atone.
Higher! still higher
My enfranchised wings aspire,
And, on this grand tree's loftiest limb,
I sit and swing,
And blithely sing
My sweetest, most exultant hymn,
Whose notes e'en slavery could not dim.
My enfranchised wings aspire,
And, on this grand tree's loftiest limb,
I sit and swing,
And blithely sing
My sweetest, most exultant hymn,
Whose notes e'en slavery could not dim.
Bright hope! Bright faith!
No supervening dun
Obscures the sun;
The future hath no fears; nor want nor death
Obtrude their forms,
And in the passing storms
That may occur to give alloy,
No blast can sweep away the present joy.
Happen the fate that may,
This bright, triumphant day
Is mine in all the feel of joy that Freedom gives,
In which alone a being only lives.
No supervening dun
Obscures the sun;
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Obtrude their forms,
And in the passing storms
That may occur to give alloy,
No blast can sweep away the present joy.
Happen the fate that may,
This bright, triumphant day
Is mine in all the feel of joy that Freedom gives,
In which alone a being only lives.
| Lines in Pleasant Places | |