Room 'mid the martyrs for a deathless name!
Till yesterday, in her how few could know
Black War's white angel, succoring friend and foe —
Whose pure heart harbored neither hate nor blame
When Need or Pity made its sovereign claim.
To-day she is the world's! Its poignant woe,
We thought had been outwept, again doth flow
In tenderest tears that multiply her fame.

Oh, something there is in us yet, more bright
Than Rouen's hungry flames — that could consume
Jeanne's slender limbs but not her spirit's might.
Fate still has noble colors in her loom.
One lonely woman's courage in the night
Has sealed the savage Hohenzollerns' doom!