Negation's iron bar.
Pent in their narrow bounds they cry,
"No stars, no sky,—we struggle, die,
And know not why we are."
Oh, self-immured! ye cannot see?
Stand back!—your brother shall be free.
Stand back!—from 'neath your trampling feet
The young, the weak shall rise.
Their white lips breathe in silent pain
The prayer your pride denies;