| William Wilfred Campbell, comp. The Oxford Book of Canadian Verse. 1913. | | | | Freedom | | By Phillips Stewart (1864–1892) |
| | From ‘Lines to My Mother’
TRUE greatness is the struggle to be free, | |
| And he who would be truly great must bear | |
| A thorny heart for lovely Freedom’s sake. | |
| Ignominy and gloom, curses, blind lies, | |
| The scorn of little minds, the bitter hemlock bowl, | 5 |
| Are all he wins in life. Hail, noble Queen! | |
| Thy reign is growing larger every hour. | |
| Hail to the light of thine eternal brow! | |
| The little lights must fade in thee, as moths | |
| Dissolve in flame—the little lights must die. | 10 |
| Is it a sin to doubt the past, that speaks | |
| The darkened mind? Hail, light unquenchable! | |
| From Thee priestcraft and superstition skulk | |
| Into oblivion, and caves of night, | |
| And mumbling mouths that mourn the outworn past. | 15 |
| The rights and lives of men are but half built, | |
| When inhumanity hath greater power | |
| Than love; what wonder that the world is full | |
| Of clanking chains, and rayless cells of gloom! | | | | |
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