Conflicting thoughts in secret as her tool,
She reserves righteous actions as our function;
Softly contending every broken rule,
A lofty beauty: Will and Conscience spied in junction.
She often halts one’s compromise made vainly;
But in the end Will’s boots have sharper spurs;
Though on our hearts the law was written plainly,
A dirty parchment often muddies words.
You’re calloused now, her pangs are rendered trite;
This critic, though yourself, you still lambast.
Muzzled now, compunction lost her bite—
The very part for which she first was cast.
Let hearts be sprinkled clean and without callous,
For then we stand boldly before the Palace.
Taken from the 2017 edition of Artos, the literary journal of Bethlehem College & Seminary students. Photo by J. DeRouchie, AA ’19