The Poetry Corner

Hidden History.

By Rose Hawthorne Lathrop

I. There was a maiden in a land Was buried with all honor fine, For they said she had dared her pulsing life To save a silent, holy shrine. The cannon rode by the church's door, The men's wild faces flashed in the sun; The woman had guarded with rifle poised, While the cassocked priests had run. Ah, no! To save her pulsing life The woman like a reindeer turned, While hostile armies rolled by her in clouds, And miles of sun and metal burned. But who should know? For she was dead Before the leathern curtain's wall, When came her wide-eyed comrades, and found Her body and her weapon, all. II. There was a woman left to die Who never told her sacrifice, But trusted for her crown to God, As to its value and device. No land was prouder for her heart, No word has echoed long her deed, And where she has lain, the angel flower Looks like a common weed.