The lion remembers the forest,

The lion in chains;

To the bird that is captive a vision

Of woodland remains.

One strains with his strength at the fetter,

In impotent rage;

One flutters in flights of a moment,

And beats at the cage.

If the lion were loosed from the fetter,

To wander again;

He would seek the wide silence and shadow

Of his jungle in vain.

He would rage in his fury, destroying;

Let him rage, let him roam!

Shall he traverse the pitiless mountain,

Or swim through the foam?

If they opened the cage and the casement,

And the bird flew away;

He would come back at evening, heartbroken,

A captive for aye.

Would come if his kindred had spared him,

Free birds from afar–

There was wrought what is stronger than iron

In fetter and bar.

I cannot remember my country,

The land whence I came;

Whence they brought me and chained me and made me

Nor wild thing nor tame.

This only I know of my country,

This only repeat :–

It was free as the forest, and sweeter

Than woodland retreat.

When the chain shall at last be broken,

The window set wide;

And I step in the largeness and freedom

Of sunlight outside ;

Shall I wander in vain for my country?

Shall I seek and not find?

Shall I cry for the bars that encage me

The fetters that bind?