O Freedom, in thy cause I fought,
For twenty years I fought in vain;
And in my mountain shelter naught
But worthless trophies now remain.
Yet in my heart I hear a cry,
Which never there makes a vain appeal:
I would once more beneath thy sky
Brandish my sharp and shining steel.
How much one stakes upon thy dream,
How much for but thy name we pay;
How cheap the passing ages seem,
When years are given for thy day.
How many still would fight and die
In thine old cause and for thy weal!
I would once more beneath thy sky
Brandish my sharp and shining steel.
The purest love I give away,
The bliss of it I set at naught;
Again I'm on my wayward way
Seeking what I have often sought.
My wounded hopes, my bleeding ties,
No peace inglorious e’er shall heal:
I would once more beneath thy skies
Brandish my sharp and shining steel.
O Freedom, though thy price be high,
Though one for thee his life must seal,
I would once more beneath thy sky
Brandish my sharp and shining steel.
From A Chant of Mystics (James T. White & Co., 1921) by Ameen Rihani. This poem is in the public domain.