The Cost of Liberty

Once more we are reminded

That liberty has its cost—

That when we choose to protect it,

Then souls are bound to be lost.

When in a time of great sorrow

Don’t claim this fee is too high,

For this is the cost of freedom,

And some are sure to die.

This is when you must see

The product that you bought—

It’s but a human ideal,

For which many others have fought.

You cannot hold it;

It fits not in your hand.

It’s one of the thoughts

In the many minds of man.

In the roots of the image

We find this woeful paradox:

Why must my freedom come

In another’s flag-draped box?

Therefore at the end of your day,

Before you lie in bed,

Recall the price of freedom—

And always mourn the dead.