Born of man’s ignorance and selfishness.
He wounds his happiness against a cage
Of his own make, and only waits the word
For one to set his door open,—and look,
Having his liberty is he not glad
As heaven’s birds are?—Now when fate’s ordinance
Sends him a liberator, ay, and one
Not to cajole or preach, but, will or nill,
Who’ll force him forth and crush up his old cage,
With all who would hang back and skulk therein,