| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
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| 1157. Saturninus |
| | | By Katherine Eleanor Conway |
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| HE might have won the highest guerdon that heaven to earth can give, | |
| For whoso falleth for justice—dying, he yet shall live. | |
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| He might have left us his memory to flame as a beacon light, | |
| When clouds of the false world’s raising shut the stars of heaven from sight. | |
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| He might have left us his name to ring in our triumph song | 5 |
| When we stand, as we ’ll stand at to-morrow’s dawn, by the grave of a world old wrong. | |
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| For he gave thee, O mother of valiant sons, thou fair, and sore oppressed, | |
| The love of his youth and his manhood’s choice—first-fruits of his life, and best. | |
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| Thine were throb of his heart and thought of his brain and toil of his strong right hand; | |
| For thee he braved scorn and reviling, and loss of gold and land, | 10 |
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| Threat and lure and false-hearted friend, and blight of a broken word— | |
| Terrors of night and delay of light—prison and rack and sword. | |
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| For thee he bade death defiance—till the heavens opened wide, | |
| And his face grew bright with reflex of light from the face of the Crucified. | |
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| And his crown was in sight and his palm in reach and his glory all but won, | 15 |
| And then—he failed—God help us! with the worst of dying done. | |
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| Only to die on the treacherous down by the hands of the tempters spread— | |
| Nay, nay—make way for the strangers! we have no right in the dead. | |
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| But oh, for the beacon quenched, that we dreamed would kindle and flame! | |
| And oh, for the standard smirched and shamed, and the name we dare not name! | 20 |
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| Over the lonesome grave the shadows gather fast; | |
| Only the mother, like God, forgives, and comforts her heart with the past. | |
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