I

FREE Heart, that singest to-day,

      Like a bird on the first green spray;

      Wilt thou go forth to the world,

      Where the hawk hath his wing unfurled

            To follow, perhaps, thy way?

      Where the tamer, thine own, will bind,

      And, to make thee sing, will blind,—

While the little hip grows for the free behind?

                        Heart, wilt thou go?

                              —"No, no!

                  Free hearts are better so."