U. S. SENATOR JAMES A. O'GORMAN AND THE STALWARTS

On toward the Senate scuds a thunder-rack—

Nay, cyclone—and the columns—all star-straight—

Of Freedom's Temple sway with the roof's flood-weight.

Ye Stalwarts who scorn off a fate, pitch-black,

Holding the columns, let no sinew slack.

A crash and through the roof, what floods of hate!

Still, ye budge not, for "Freedom," your teeth grate,

"Shall lie no wreck along the cyclone's track."

Oh, not for you was dark the time to slumber,

But to hold Freedom's columns all star-plumb!

Yours was a watery grave, but Martyrdom

And, hence, your resurrection with the number,

Whose greatness greatens, as the Ages come

To know why their pathway, no wrecks encumber.