Song: 'The Winds, As At Their Hour Of Birth

The winds, as at their hour of birth, Leaning upon the ridged sea, Breathed low around the rolling earth With mellow preludes, 'We are free.' The streams, through many a lilied row Down-carolling to the crisped sea, Low-tinkled with a bell-like flow Atween the blossoms, 'We are free.'