Classic Poem

Brave — ends — may consecrate a cruel story,
And crown a dastard deed;
Brave hearts are laureled with eternal glory
That held another creed.

Who knows the end? or in what record written
The crowned results abide?
The volume closed not with an Abel smitten
Or Christ the crucified.

How poor and pale from yonder heights of Heaven
Our Caesar's pomp appears
To those who wear the purple robes of Stephen,
Or Mary's crown of tears!

So let us watch a single pale star, keeping
Its vigil o'er the tide; —
No truth is lost for which the true are weeping,
Nor dead for which they died.