Freedom Freedom is but a mandman's dream, A dance aong an endless lane. The slogans that you shout but seem To drown the clanging of the chain.
Freedom is but a posturing, Before a necromantic glass; The old old song you newly sing, Falsetto, like an infant class. Freedom is greed, is violence, Lust, and the lordship of the fool. Freedom's not knowing either whence Or whither, of chance be the rule. We dreamed, and wake up from sleep: And dark indeed the day to see When Freedom's image cannot keep Even a poet's loyalty
