| Author: | A. C. Laut | ISBN: | 9781465531605 |
| Publisher: | Library of Alexandria | Publication: | July 29, 2009 |
| Imprint: | Library of Alexandria | Language: | English |
| Author: | A. C. Laut |
| ISBN: | 9781465531605 |
| Publisher: | Library of Alexandria |
| Publication: | July 29, 2009 |
| Imprint: | Library of Alexandria |
| Language: | English |
“The adventurous spirits, who haunted the forest and plain, grew fond of their wild life and affected a great contempt for civilization.” You boxed-up, mewed-up artificials, Pent in your piles of mortar and stone, Hugging your finely spun judicials, Adorning externals, externals alone, Vaunting in prideful ostentation Of the Juggernaut car, called Civilization—What know ye of freedom and life and God? Monkeys, that follow a showman’s string, Know more of freedom and less of care, Cage birds, that flutter from perch to ring, Have less of worry and surer fare. Cursing the burdens, yourselves have bound, In a maze of wants, running round and round—Are ye free men, or manniken slaves? Costly patches, adorning your walls, Are all of earth’s beauty ye care to know; But ye strut about in soul-stifled halls To play moth-life by a candle-glow—What soul has space for upward fling, What manhood room for shoulder-swing, Coffined and cramped from the vasts of God
“The adventurous spirits, who haunted the forest and plain, grew fond of their wild life and affected a great contempt for civilization.” You boxed-up, mewed-up artificials, Pent in your piles of mortar and stone, Hugging your finely spun judicials, Adorning externals, externals alone, Vaunting in prideful ostentation Of the Juggernaut car, called Civilization—What know ye of freedom and life and God? Monkeys, that follow a showman’s string, Know more of freedom and less of care, Cage birds, that flutter from perch to ring, Have less of worry and surer fare. Cursing the burdens, yourselves have bound, In a maze of wants, running round and round—Are ye free men, or manniken slaves? Costly patches, adorning your walls, Are all of earth’s beauty ye care to know; But ye strut about in soul-stifled halls To play moth-life by a candle-glow—What soul has space for upward fling, What manhood room for shoulder-swing, Coffined and cramped from the vasts of God
