
“He that would make his own liberty secure, must guard even his enemy from
oppression; for if he violates this duty, he establishes a precedent that will reach to himself.”
Thomas Paine

“He that would make his own liberty secure, must guard even his enemy from
oppression; for if he violates this duty, he establishes a precedent that will reach to himself.”
Thomas Paine

Caged Bird
by Maya Angelou
A free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wing
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn
and he names the sky his own
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.


“Supposing I was to tell you that it’s just Beauty that’s
calling me, the beauty of the far off and unknown, the
mystery and spell of the East which lures me in the books
I’ve read, the need of the freedom of great wide spaces,
the joy of wandering on and on — in quest of the secret
which is hidden over there, beyond the horizon?”
— Eugene O’Neill


Freedom
by George William Russell
I WILL not follow you, my bird,
I will not follow you.
I would not breathe a word, my bird,
To bring thee here anew.
I love the free in thee, my bird,
The lure of freedom drew;
The light you fly toward, my bird,
I fly with thee unto.
And there we yet will meet, my bird,
Though far I go from you
Where in the light outpoured, my bird,
Are love and freedom too.


How does the Meadow flower its bloom unfold?
Because the lovely little flower is free
Down to its root, and in that freedom bold.
William Wordsworth
