To The States, or any one of
them, or any city of The
States, Resist much, Obey
Once unquestioning obedience,
once fully enslaved,
Once fully enslaved, no nation,
race, city, of this earth,
ever afterward resumes
The Left loves to talk, and talk, and talk, and talk without ceasing about their “freedom.” Free to be…. “Me.” Freedom to indulge Me, Myself, and I in anything our whim might dictate… except to be critical of the philosophy of “personal freedom” while wearing the “mind-forged manacles” of the State.
But the question is not about “freedom.” It is about “liberty.” It is always about “liberty” and how much liberty people are willing to give up in order to taste the sweet sins of “freedom.” Whitman, a man who indulged in a lot of personal sexual freedom, knew this.
 I wander thro’ each charter’d street,
Near where the chartered Thames does flow.
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
In every cry of every man,
In every Infant’s cry of fear,
In every voice: in every ban,
The mind-forged manacles I hear.
How the Chimney-sweeper’s cry
Every blackning church appalls;
And the hapless Soldier’s sigh
Runs in blood down Palace walls.
But most thro’ midnight streets I hear
How the youthful Harlot’s curse
Blasts the new-born Infant’s tear,
And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse.
— Wiliam Blake, London