I will remember what I was. I am sick of rope and chain, I will remember my old strength and all my forest-affairs. I will not sell my back to man for a bundle of sugarcane. I will go out to my own kind, and the wood-folk in their lairs. I will go out until the day, until the morning break, Out to the winds 'untainted kiss, the waters' clean caress. I will forget my ankle-ring and snap my picket-stake. I will revisit my lost loves, and playmates masterless!
Return to the Rudyard Kipling library , or . . . Read the next poem; To T. A.