In Memoriam

William McKinley.

When the dread war trumpet sounded
     Nigh forty years ago
He was only a lad, yet he sprang to join
     In battle with the foe.
He only did his duty,
     Like half a million more,
Yet Union won through duty done,
     And the years have healed the sore.

When the great, free states united
     Spoke with unhindered voice,
He bent his back to the burden
     And ruled them as their choice.
He only did his duty,
     As others have done before,
Yet the free states stand like rocks in the land
     When duty guards the door.

When our Leader risked the hatred
     Of anarchist bullet or knife,
When he counted that hazard of greater worth
     Than recreant, shrinking life,
He only did his duty,
     He was only sound to the core;
Yet such as he are the men that we
     Must tie to forevermore.

He is dead on the field of battle,
     And we may not call him Chief,
But he rules in our hearts in glory,
     In glory shadowed by grief.
For greater than craft of statesmanship—
     Though greatly he played his part—
Is this brotherly word and the kind deed spurred
     To its end by the True Man’s heart.