I will fight through fetters all and fly!
Mine is the inarticulate cry of love,
Plea of a son’s aspiring heart.
Made more and more apt and musical
By what thou wast and art,
During all thy crowning years.
Again I see thy imaged face, O master man;
Thy penetrating eye, that reads from soul to soul—
Stern, inflexible;
Yet merciful thou, and gentle with men.