John William Inchbold
Are there no slaves but those who wear a chain?
None with the deep curse branded on their breast,
But those whose deadened sense finds sullen rest
On those dark hulks of state. Is not life vain
That has its heart crushed out, without one grain,
Which afterwards may ripen for the oppressed,
So that they know how sorrow may be blest?—
Ah, life may be yet wholly in dull pain,
Built up of common thoughts day after day,
Of common acts, conventions of a deed,
The virtue past with ages long gone by!—
O break the hateful chain, come Time's fresh May!
Ere custom's fetters bound man's happy speed,
Teach thou our lips to vanquish every lie.
John William Inchbold's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Custom by John William Inchbold )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley