Classic and Contemporary Poetry
SPIRIT OF FREEDOM, by JAMES GATES PERCIVAL Poet's Biography First Line: Spirit of freedom! Who thy home hast made Last Line: Dearest of earth, for there my soul is free. Subject(s): Freedom; Liberty | ||||||||
SPIRIT OF FREEDOM! who thy home hast made In wilds and wastes, where wealth has never trod, Nor bowed her coward head before her god, The sordid deity of fraudful trade; Where power has never reared his iron brow, And glared his glance of terror, nor has blown The maddening trump of battle, nor has flown His blood-thirst eagles; where no flatterers bow, And kiss the foot that spurns them; where no throne, Bright with the spoils from nations wrested, towers, The idol of a slavish mob, who herd, Where largess feeds their sloth with golden showers, And thousands hang upon one tyrant's word -- SPIRIT OF FREEDOM! thou, who dwellest alone, Unblenched, unyielding, on the storm-beat shore, And findest a stirring music in its roar, And lookest abroad on earth and sea, thy own -- Far from the city's noxious hold, thy foot, Fleet as the wild deer bounds, as if its breath Were but the rankest, foulest steam of death; Its soil were but the dunghill, where the root Of every poisonous weed and baleful tree Grew vigorously and deeply, till their shade Had choked and killed each wholesome plant, and laid In rottenness the flower of LIBERTY -- Thou flyest to the desert, and its sands Become thy welcome shelter, where the pure Wind gives its freshness to thy roving bands, And languid weakness finds its only cure; Where few their wants, and bounded their desires, And life all spring and action, they display Man's boldest flights, and highest, warmest fires, And beauty wears her loveliest array -- Thou climbest the mountain's crag, and with the snows Dwellest high above the slothful plains; the rock Thy iron bed; the avalanche's shock Thou sternly breastest: hunger, cold and toil Harden thy steeled nerves, till the frozen soil, The gnarled oak, the torrent, as it flows In thunder down its gulf, are not more rude, More hardy, more resistless, than thy force, When waked to madness in thy headlong course, Thou rushest from thy wintry solitude, And sweepest frighted nations on thy path, A whirlwind in the fury of thy wrath, And with one curl of thy indignant frown, Castest the pride of plumed warriors down, And bearest them onward, like the storm-filled wave In mingled ruin to their bloody grave. SPIRIT OF FREEDOM! I would with thee dwell, Whether on Afric's sand, or Norway's crags, Or Kansa's prairies, for thou lovest them well, And there thy boldest daring never flags; Or I would launch with time upon the deep, And like the petrel make the wave my home, And careless as the sportive sea-bird roam; Or with the chamois on the Alp would leap, And feel myself upon the snow-clad height, A portion of that undimmed flow of light, No mist nor cloud can darken -- O! with thee, Spirit of Freedom! deserts, mountains, storms, Would wear a glow of beauty, and their forms Would soften into loveliness, and be Dearest of earth, for there my soul is free. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LOVE THE WILD SWAN by ROBINSON JEFFERS AFTER TENNYSON by AMBROSE BIERCE QUARTET IN F MAJOR by WILLIAM MEREDITH CROSS THAT LINE by NAOMI SHIHAB NYE EMANCIPATION by ELIZABETH ALEXANDER THE CORAL GROVE by JAMES GATES PERCIVAL |
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