A Book for the Young

by Sarah French

A wreath of such renown,

Or dared to hope my dying day

Would win a martyr's crown.

There is a chamber far away,

Where sleeps the good and brave

But a better place ye have named for me

Than by my fathers grave,

For truth and right 'gainst treason's might

This hand has always striven,

And ye raise it up for a witness still