Classic Poem

Who did to the wild ass's heart,
That knows no bit or rein,
A sense of liberty impart,
All drivers to disdain?

The tame ass is to labour bound,
But still the wild is free;
His house I made the desert round,
His home the barren lee.

He scorns the city's multitude,
Refuses to be driven;
The range of mountains for his food,
And piles of grass are given.

With freedom bless'd he roves apace,
And ne'er the desert quits,
But mocks the tame and stupid ass,
That his base neck submits.