The price of your freedom—I claim it ! 
Your aid to make other men free ! 
Your strength—I defy you to shame it ! 
Your peace—I defy it to be 
Dishonoured !  Arise and proclaim it 
From sea unto sea ! 
 
From Ireland the voice of the dying, 
The murdered, the starved, the exiled, 
In hope to your freedom is crying 
A dolorous note and a wild : 
“ Your star-bestrewn banner is flying, 
And ours—is defiled.” 
 
From Ind—shall her summons awaken ? 
Her voices are those of the dead ! 
By famine and cholera shaken, 
By taxes and usury bled, 
In the hour of her torture forsaken, 
Stones given for bread ! 
 
In Africa women are fighting 
Their homes and their freedom to hold. 
Young children and graybeards, delighting 
To die for their country of old ! 
For the ravenous lion is smiting 
A stroke for their gold.
 
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