Obstinate are the trammels, but my heart aches when I try to break them. Freedom is all I want, but to hope for it I feel ashamed. I am certain that priceless wealth is in thee, and that thou art my best friend, but I have not the heart to sweep away the tinsel that fills my room. The shroud that covers me is a shroud of dust and death; I hate it, yet hug it in love. My debts are large, my failures great, my shame secret and heavy; yet when I come to ask for my good, I quake in fear lest my prayer be granted.
Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high; Where knowledge is free; Where the world has not been broked up into fragments by narrow domestic walls; .. Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit; .. Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.