Late in the Spring, when all the ice was gone,
The elder brother, fishing in the lake,
Upon whose edge his father’s wigwam stood,
Heard a low moaning noise upon the shore:  100
Half like a child it seemed, half like a wolf,
And straightway there was something in his heart
That said, ‘It is thy brother Sheemah’s voice.’ 
So, paddling swiftly to the bank, he saw,
Within a little thicket close at hand,
A child that seemed fast clinging to a wolf,
From the neck downward, gray with shaggy hair,
That still crept on and upward as he looked. 
The face was turned away, but well he knew
That it was Sheemah’s, even his brother’s face. 110
Then with his trembling hands he hid his eyes,
And bowed his head, so that he might not see
The first look of his brother’s eyes, and cried,
’O Sheemah!  O my brother, speak to me! 
Dost thou not know me, that I am thy brother? 
Come to me, little Sheemah, thou shall dwell
With me henceforth, and know no care or want!’
Sheemah was silent for a space, as if
’T were hard to summon up a human voice,
And, when he spake, the voice was as a wolf’s:  120
’I know thee not, nor art thou what thou say’st;
I have none other brethren than the wolves,
And, till thy heart be changed from what it is,
Thou art not worthy to be called their kin.’ 
Then groaned the other, with a choking tongue,
’Alas! my heart is changed right bitterly;
‘Tis shrunk and parched within me even now!’
And, looking upward fearfully, he saw
Only a wolf that shrank away, and ran,
Ugly and fierce, to hide among the woods. 130

STANZAS ON FREEDOM

Men! whose boast it is that ye
Come of fathers brave and free,
If there breathe on earth a slave,
Are ye truly free and brave? 
If ye do not feel the chain,
When it works a brother’s pain,
Are ye not base slaves indeed,
Slaves unworthy to be freed?

Women! who shall one day bear
Sons to breathe New England air,
If ye hear, without a blush,
Deeds to make the roused blood rush
Like red lava through your veins,
For your sisters now in chains,—­
Answer! are ye fit to be
Mothers of the brave and free?

Is true Freedom but to break
Fetters for our own dear sake,
And, with leathern hearts, forget
That we owe mankind a debt? 
No! true freedom is to share
All the chains our brothers wear
And, with heart and hand, to be
Earnest to make others free!

They are slaves who fear to speak
For the fallen and the weak;
They are slaves who will not choose
Hatred, scoffing, and abuse,
Rather than in silence shrink
From the truth they needs must think;
They are slaves who dare not be
In the right with two or three.

COLUMBUS