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Poem	The lion remembers the forest, The lion in chains; To the bird that is captive a vision Of woodland remains. One strains with his strength at the fetter, In impotent rage; One flutters in flights of a moment, And beats at the cage. If the lion were loosed from the fetter, To wander again; He would seek the wide silence and shadow Of his jungle in vain. He would rage in his fury, destroying; Let him rage, let him roam! Shall he traverse the pitiless mountain, Or swim through the foam? If they opened the cage and the casement, And the bird flew away; He would come back at evening, heartbroken, A captive for aye. Would come if his kindred had spared him, Free birds from afar-- There was wrought what is stronger than iron In fetter and bar. I cannot remember my country, The land whence I came; Whence they brought me and chained me and made me Nor wild thing nor tame. This only I know of my country, This only repeat :-- It was free as the forest, and sweeter Than woodland retreat. When the chain shall at last be broken, The window set wide; And I step in the largeness and freedom Of sunlight outside ; Shall I wander in vain for my country? Shall I seek and not find? Shall I cry for the bars that encage me The fetters that bind?
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