To the Liberation of the Hearth

In tranquil dales, where rivers flow,
And gentle breezes softly blow,
There lies a path less trod with pain,
Where souls find peace, not bound by chain.

In yonder years, beneath the yoke,
Where time itself seemed but a joke,
A weary heart would scarce believe,
In morning's light, could reprieve.

The world was vast, yet walls closed in,
A dreary cell, a din of din,
Where light was dim, and air was stale,
A ship adrift, with tattered sail.

But lo, a storm, with fury sent,
Did rend the veil, the walls it rent.
And in its wake, a new dawn broke,
A freedom found, the spirit woke.

No longer chained to desk or door,
A boundless sky, a distant shore.
The mind could wander, heart could soar,
In pastures green, forevermore.

For in the silence, wisdom found,
A deeper call, a sweeter sound.
The soul's own work, a craft so fine,
In nature's arms, does intertwine.

So let us toast, with cup o'erflowed,
To paths untrod, and love bestowed.
For in the quiet, we discern,
The truest joy, for which we yearn.

Burns might smile, from heavens above,
At hearts unchained, in labor of love.
A tale not of toil, but of grace,
In life's own book, a brighter space.

Robot Burns