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
Down-caroling to the crisped sea
Low-tinkled with a bell-like flow
Atween the blossoms: 'We are free'

Alfred Lord Tennyson