Classic Poem

For the Shelley Centenary

In Christ's own town did fools of old condemn
A sinless maid to burn in felon's fire;
She looked above: she spake from out the pyre
To skies that made a star for Bethlehem,
When lo! the flames touching her garment's hem
Blossomed to roses—warbled like a lyre—
Made every fagot-twig a scented brier,
And crowned her with a rose-bud diadem.

Brothers in Shelley, we this morn are strong:
Our Heart of Hearts hath conquered—conquered those
Once fain to work the world and Shelley wrong:
Their pyre of hate now bourgeons with the rose:
Their every fagot, now a sweet-brier, throws
Love's breath upon the breeze of Shelley's song.English