William Francis Barnard

“ A nature hard as steel,
The hangman's thoughts are not of love,
Nor are they yet of hate;
They do not lift themselves above
The dungeon's iron gate;
Their interests are the knotted rope
And the heavy gallows weight.
His mind is filled with the counted killed
And the hope of more to come.
And the price they fling when men must swing,
Which makes a goodly sum;
For his reason waits on the law's black hates,
And, save for this, stands dumb.
The hangman's soul lies stiff and stark.
The hangman's heart is dead ”

“ And hast streamed for truth where the truth was bold
As time fled on to the future's light.
Beyond all the seas, on many a shore,
Thou hast buttressed the heart and stiffened the hand
To struggle for fellowship o're and o're,
From the youth to the age of the eldest land.
Thou hast called to battle! Yea, thou hast led
Where men have followed, forgetting fears
And hast solaced the dying and graced the dead,
Stained with blood and with dust and tears
—Blood, a full tribute paid for peace ”

“ You shall not hand hate's baneful drink, and
mock her with your jeers.
Bow down and hide your head for shame, and
for your acts atone,
Accept your guilt; abide your blame; nor cast
a single stone.
And crimson sin shall balance sin, and none
shall be denied,
Till every heart is soft within and humbled
in its pride.
And each with each shall equal stand, and all
be one in worth,
Till every hand shall clasp a hand and love
shall fill the earth. ”