by: Robert G. Ingersoll
from Prose-Poems and Selections from the Writings and Sayings of Robert G. Ingersoll, published by C.P. Farrell, New York 1884
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I WOULD rather go to the forest, far away, and build me a little cabinbuild it myselfand daub it with clay, and live there with my wife and children ; and have a winding path leading down to the spring where the water bubbles out, day and night, whispering a poem to the white pebbles, from the heart of the earth ; a little hut with some hollyhocks at the corner, with their bannered bosoms open to the sun, and a thrush in the air like a winged joyI would rather live there and have some lattice work across the window so that the sun-light would fall checkered on the babe in the cradleI would rather live there, with my soul erect and free, than in a palace of gold, and wear a crown of imperial power, and feel that I was superstition’s cringing slave, and dare not speak my honest thought.