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FREEDOM
You speak of Freedom; believe me all the same,
There never yet was actual Liberty;
There never yet was mortal man so free
That he could win, of his endeavour, Fame,
That Crown of Honour, or choose the Cross of Shame.
Each treads the path towards Infinity
As best he may,—such power alone hath he,—
Himself he cannot make nor mar his name.
Man is not free to hasten, nor to wait,
Nor walks he unattended to his doom,
Behind him in the silence, and the gloom,
Those Powers stand, and watch remorselessly,
Who are his Masters:—one, Heredity,
One, Circumstance, whose other name is Fate.
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