Blame not the world:
But blame its law that makes it crime akin
To be of lowly birth--to lack the gold
Whereby to coat the mask to cheat the world
Of sterling merit. See yon beauteous fly
Breaking its plumage 'gainst the glassy pane,
Till spent and weary, yearning tow'rds the sun.
E'en so the lowly-born but large of soul
See not, but feel, the chilling barrier
Set up by Pride to mar their sky-ward flight
To liberty and life.