He told a homely tale
And spotted it with tears—
Upon his infant face was set
The Cicatrice of years—
All crumpled was the cheek
No other kiss had known
Than flake of snow, divided with
The Redbreast of the Barn—
If Mother—in the Grave—
Or Father—on the Sea—
Or Father in the Firmament—
Or Brethren, had he—
If Commonwealth below,
Or Commonwealth above
Have missed a Barefoot Citizen—
I’ve ransomed it—alive—
