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No! with the shaft in thy bosom borne, Thou must hide the wound in thy fear of scorn; Thou must fold thy mantle that none may see, And mask thee with laughter, and say, thou art free!

No! thou art chained till thy race is run, By the power of all in the soul of one; On thy heart, on thy lip, must the fetter be— Dreamer, fond dreamer! oh! who is free?