To thee, fair freedom! I retire From flattery, cards, and dice, and dio; Nor art thou found in mansions higher Than the low cot, or humble inn. 'Tis here with boundless power I reign; And every health which I begin, Converts dull port to bright champagne; Such freedom crowns it, at an inn. I fly from pomp, I fly from plate! I fly from falsehood's specious grin; Freedom I love, and form I hate, And choose my lodgings at an inn. Here, waiter! take my sordid ore, Which lackeys else might hope to win; It buys, what courts have not in store; It buys me freedom at an inn. Whoe'er has travelled life's dull round, Where'er his stages may have been, May sigh to think he still has found The warmest welcome at an inn. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UNDER A TELEPHONE POLE by CARL SANDBURG THE ARCHITECT AT THE EDGE OF THE SEA by KAREN SWENSON ADVENTURE ON THE WINGS OF MORNING by RACHEL ALBRIGHT THE FLIGHT OF THE GODDESS by CELIA THAXTER |