O 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?