From the Original Draft of the Poem to William Shelley
The world is now our dwelling-place;Where'er the earth one fading traceOf what was great and free does keep,That is our home!...Mild thoughts of man's ungentle raceShall our contented exile reap;For who that in some happy placeHis own free thoughts can freely chaseBy woods and waves can clothe his faceIn cynic smiles? Child! we shall weep.
This lament,The memory of thy grievous wrongWill fade...But genius is omnipotentTo hallow...
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