Was that the music of the wind,
That whispered in my trembling ear?
And can I, free and unconfined,
Taste of the joys that still are dear?
And can I skip from tree to tree,
And fly along the flowery plain,
Light as the wind, as fleet, as free,
And make my winter’s nest again?
O, yes! my joyful, trembling heart,
The song you heard from yonder tree,
Which made awakening memory start,
Was the sweet sound of Liberty!
Dear Ellen, many thanks I owe
For tenderest care bestowed on me;
But most my gratitude will flow
For your best gift,—sweet Liberty!
Oft in your gayest, happiest hour,
When all your youthful heart beats high,
And, hastening on from flower to flower,
You taste the sweets of Liberty,
The thought that you have set me free,
That I can skip and dance like you,
To your kind, tender heart shall be
As pure a joy as e’er you knew.
Scarce can my wakening sense believe
The sounds I hear, the sights I see;
Dear Ellen, once again receive
Your Squirrel’s thanks for Liberty.