LIBERTY - Fredrick Douglass September 13, 1847
He loves to see his eyrie seat
Some Rock on ocean's lonely shore
Whose old bare top, the tempest beat
And round whose base the billows roar,
Or mount through tempest shrouded air
All thick and dark, with wild wind swelling
Or brave the lightning's lurid glare,
And talk with thunders in their dwelling.
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