| |
| SHE was binding the wounds of her enemies when they came— | |
| The lint in her hand unrolled. | |
| They battered the door with their rifle-butts, crashed it in: | |
| She faced them gentle and bold. | |
| |
| They haled her before the judges where they sat | 5 |
| In their places, helmet on head. | |
| With question and menace the judges assailed her, “Yes, | |
| I have broken your law,” she said. | |
| |
| “I have tended the hurt and hidden the hunted, have done | |
| As a sister does to a brother, | 10 |
| Because of a law that is greater than that you have made, | |
| Because I could do none other. | |
| |
| “Deal as you will with me. This is my choice to the end, | |
| To live in the life I vowed.” | |
| “She is self-confessed,” they cried; “she is self-condemned. | 15 |
| She shall die, that the rest may be cowed.” | |
| |
| In the terrible hour of the dawn, when the veins are cold, | |
| They led her forth to the wall. | |
| “I have loved my land,” she said, “but it is not enough: | |
| Love requires of me all. | 20 |
| |
| “I will empty my heart of the bitterness, hating none.” | |
| And sweetness filled her brave | |
| With a vision of understanding beyond the hour | |
| That knelled to the waiting grave. | |
| |
| They bound her eyes, but she stood as if she shone. | 25 |
| The rifles it was that shook | |
| When the hoarse command rang out. They could not endure | |
| That last, that defenceless look. | |
| |
| And the officer strode and pistolled her surely, ashamed | |
| That men, seasoned in blood, | 30 |
| Should quail at a woman, only a woman,— | |
| As a flower stamped in the mud. | |
| |
| And now that the deed was securely done, in the night | |
| When none had known her fate, | |
| They answered those that had striven for her, day by day: | 35 |
| “It is over, you come too late.” | |
| |
| And with many words and sorrowful-phrased excuse | |
| Argued their German right | |
| To kill, most legally; hard though the duty be, | |
| The law must assert its might. | 40 |
| |
| Only a woman! yet she had pity on them, | |
| The victim offered slain | |
| To the gods of fear that they worship. Leave them there, | |
| Red hands, to clutch their gain! | |
| |
| She bewailed not herself, and we will bewail her not, | 45 |
| But with tears of pride rejoice | |
| That an English soul was found so crystal-clear | |
| To be triumphant voice | |
| |
| Of the human heart that dares adventure all | |
| But live to itself untrue, | 50 |
| And beyond all laws sees love as the light in the night, | |
| As the star it must answer to. | |
| |
| The hurts she healed, the thousands comforted—these | |
| Make a fragrance of her fame. | |
| But because she stept to her star right on through death | 55 |
| It is Victory speaks her name. | |
| |
