Though I Love My Country, I Do

Gone, Glimmering Through The Dream Of Things That Were.

Ah, Happy Years! Once More Who Would Not Be A Boy?

Tyranny Is For The Worst Of Treasons.

From The Mingled Strength Of Shade And Light A New Creation Rises To My Sight, Such Heav'nly Figures From His Pencil Flow, So Warm With Light His Blended Colors Glow. . . . . The Glowing Portraits, Fresh From Life, That Bring Home To Our Hearts The Truth From Which They Spring.

Yes, Love Indeed Is Light From Heaven; A Spark Of That Immortal Fire With Angels Shared, By Allah Given To Lift From Earth Our Low Desire.