Page:The poems of Richard Watson Gilder, Gilder, 1908.djvu/82

54 With base thought front the ever-sacred sky—

Soil with foul deed the ground whereon he laid

In holy death his pale, immortal head!

ON A PORTRAIT OF SERVETUS

"DESPISE NOT THOU"

not thou thy father's ancient creed;

Of his pure life it was the golden thread

Whereon bright days were gathered, bead by bead,

Till death laid low that dear and reverend head.

From olden faith how many a glorious deed

Hath lit the world; its blood-stained banner led

The martyrs heavenward; yea, it was the seed

Of knowledge, whence our modern freedom spread.

Not always has man's credo proved a snare—

But a deliverance, a sign, a flame

To purify the dense and pestilent air,