From "On Freedom's Ground" by Richard Wilbur
Back then, before we came
To this calm bay and savage oceanside,
When Bedloe's Island had no English name,
The waves were but the subjects of the tide
And vassals of the harnessed wind, which blew
Not as it chose, but as it had to do.
The river had no choice
But to create this basin to the south,
Where every springtime tuned the peeper's voice
And drove the shad-run through its narrow mouth,
And the high-hovering sea-birds, even they
Were slaves to hunger, driving on their prey.
Where was the thought of freedom then?
It came ashore within the minds of men.
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