A Song Of Vengeance

FOR COMMANDANT SCHEEPERS (Murdered January 18, 1902)

It is done inexpiably; thrust him deep in shameful clay, Charge his name with every foulness, rule the world's ear as you may-- But the shadow at your banquet that you cannot put away!

Weak you thought him, sickness-vanquished, given to your eager hate. So you played him and you slew him with your feline shows of state, Weak--and lo! the sanctifying touch of death has made him great.

As a seed that broadening splits the rock on which a palace stands, As a trickling breach that godlike parts one land in hostile lands, Is the memory of Scheepers and his slaying at your hands.

Hill and plain and stream shall guard it, town and fireside, phrase and song; Young men's unsubdued aspiring, old men's striving wise and strong; And though Hope die, Hatred may not for remembrance of his wrong.

Murdered leader--may God fold you in the mercy of His temple, Sleep as sleep our unborn children, bravest hero and example-- Float the flag or sink for ever, your red eric shall be ample.