David Greenhood

WANTONLY I’ve been a freed man!

In a weary, checked freedom;

Far from the spinning in the pure blue of air,

Out of the hymnal curve of worlds.

And I wish I were caught by an orbit in tune

With the choral serfdom of stars.

Here, beneath the tree-tops even, I find

Among meadowing sheep random more sure than mine—

More sure than the frolic of pennies

And the eddy of men in the streets.

Hear, O Democracy:

Unless I be captive to rhythm

I am least free;

Unless the rose can hold me meek,

Or tiredness of dusk put me to sleep,

Unless I be creature of the morning,

Sheep of a shepherd,

I am gone far astray in liberty—

Homesick beyond song.