English poem
Chorus Of Men
by Abbie Farwell Brown (1871–1927)
No snarling danger in its den Can make our courage quail; No prowling savage of the fen Will turn our color pale, Nor treachery of brother men Make our endeavor fail.
With freedom are our furrows filled, To blossom in the spring. To freedom run the roads we build: “Freedom!” the gray walls sing. For FREEDOM is the word we willed Should through the ages ring!