On Earth, a freer place is not,
Than the vast land of thought,
For if you do, then you are caught,
To jail, haul'd, and bound,
And if you speak not and have talk'd,
You are mark'd, endlessly stalk'd,
You are by all men sought,
Follow'd in pursuit hot,
Your sayings become a wound,
Which does bleed profound,
Which for ages doesn't clot,
And on the list of the penaliz'd,
For you is open'd a cruel slot,
So better speak out not;
Then remains the realm of thought,
Which for now is the freest plot,
Though even that is a-become not:
Makin' me ask - will, by us,
Ever our freedom be got?
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