Читать книгу The Complete Poetical Works of James Russell Lowell - James Russell Lowell - Страница 162

Whether the idle prisoner through his grate

Watches the waving of the grass-tuft small,

Which, having colonized its rift i' th' wall,

Accepts God's dole of good or evil fate,

And from the sky's just helmet draws its lot

Daily of shower or sunshine, cold or hot;—

Whether the closer captive of a creed,

Cooped up from birth to grind out endless chaff,

Sees through his treadmill-bars the noonday laugh,

And feels in vain, his crumpled pinions breed;—

Whether the Georgian slave look up and mark,

With bellying sails puffed full, the tall cloud-bark

Sink northward slowly—thou alone seem'st good,

Fair only thou, O Freedom, whose desire

Can light in muddiest souls quick seeds of fire,

And strain life's chords to the old heroic mood.