McKinley

O BRAVE of soul and true and strong,
Yet tender as a mother’s heart,
He stood amidst the crowding throng
Of men and nations, bore his part
Among great rulers of great lands,
Humbly as one who only serves—
Honoring the service—from whose hands
Far speeding on the quickened nerves
Of freedom’s millions, runs a thrill
Of love fraternal, swift to bind
Race unto kindred race and fill
And unify the common mind
For common good, till those, who, far away,
Sit in the darkness, rise and greet the day. [122][123]

A shining mark for that wild rage
Of anarchy that gluts its maw
With patriot’s blood, and mars the page
That bears of liberty the law,
With brutal passion’s godless creed,
Was he, the wise and gently great,
Who, high of faith and bold of deed,
Wrought for his country, tempting fate
And scorning malice with love’s scorn;
Forgiving those who naught forgave,
With face uplifted to the morn
And far more glad to give than have—
For he tempts fate the most who most for man
Himself exposes to the wrath of clan.

McKinley, honor’s crown is thine,
And glory sets thy star on high,
With freedom’s fadeless stars to shine
In love’s illimitable sky!
No mean assassin’s coward shot
May harm thee in the halls of fame,
No foul aspersion leave one blot
To dim the radiance of thy name;
Thy place is with the immortal great
Of every clime and race; thy sun,
Though set, still marks high noon, thy fate
Men mourn, but say, “God’s will be done!”
God’s will be done in anarchy’s surcease,
In law’s survival, liberty’s increase.