< Page:The Sad Years.djvu
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
THE SAD YEARS
THE PRISONER (Continued)
Chained to the earth, the dark clay of the grave,
In helpless passion feel its wild heart rave,
“Free, set me free,” I hear its moaning breath,
Where liberty means nought, alas, but death.
Ah, freedom is but death.
[68]
This article is issued from Wikisource. The text is licensed under Creative Commons - Attribution - Sharealike. Additional terms may apply for the media files.