Here so bides Valentine, that blood-red Saint

Martyred now in pagan hopes and dreams;

Who could have known that Christian hearts would paint

His sacred sacrifice with…joyous screams

And all the gaudy flowers know to man…

Sundry confections honeyed, soft and sweet—

While he lay on those cold and callous stones

Listening for the sound of Julia’s feet.

What were his thoughts in those long final hours?

Beseeching friends in letters that they pray

For his salvation, that a higher power

Might give him peace and chart another way?

But then—soft steps upon the prison stairs,

And so the answer to all hopes and prayers.