Unto like Story — Trouble has enticed me —
How Kinsmen fell —
Brothers and Sister — who preferred the Glory —
And their young will
Bent to the Scaffold, or in Dungeons — chanted —
Till God's full time —
When they let go the ignominy — smiling —
And Shame went still —
Unto guessed Crests, my moaning fancy, leads me,
Worn fair
By Heads rejected — in the lower country —
Of honors there —
Such spirit makes her perpetual mention,
That I — grown bold —
Step martial — at my Crucifixion —
As Trumpets — rolled —
Feet, small as mine — have marched in Revolution
Firm to the Drum —
Hands — not so stout — hoisted them — in witness —
When Speech went numb —
Let me not shame their sublime deportments —
Drilled bright —
Beckoning — Etruscan invitation —
Toward Light —