To Joan: A Sonnet

My Joan of Arc, thou findest war no more
In havens of Elysium yonder!
Though stirring fires bid thee haste in yore
unto the Styx’s shoreline to wander.

To thine inward beauty none canst compare
save God’s Son whose regal banner dost wave
His voice didst call thee home with honest prayer
Alas! Thou hast an unmarked soldier’s grave.

Now that thou hast true peace in thy resort
Thou mayest know that men do love thee so
As ever they did once who kept the court
of France from English tyrants by blood flow.

So to venerate thy name, passers-by
may say, “Jehanne, La Pucelle, never die!”