Classic Poem

“A ND this is freedom!” cried the serf; “At last
I tread free soil, the free air blows on me;”
And, wild to learn the sweets of liberty,
With eager hope his bosom bounded fast.
But not for naught had the long years amassed
Habit of slavery; among the free
He still was servile, and, disheartened, he
Crept back to the old bondage of the past.
Long did I bear a hard and heavy chain
Wreathëd with amaranth and asphodel,
But through the flower-breaths stole the weary pain.
I cast it off and fled, but 't was in vain;
For when once more I passed by where it fell,
I took it up and bound it on again.