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Poem	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."
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