In the wave of that grand revolution,
They were told they had to side against Rome,
The men held onto their constitution,
Then, they were left to rot in hulks unknown:
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The rats would eat what little food there was,
Plagued by disease they would come to profess,
Not all we're able to hold on because,
Five hundred poor souls faced their final rest:
________________________________
Three years they spent wasting away in hell,
Just off the French coast they were suffering,
For them the bell would toll, but could they tell?
So few would the see sun by the third spring:
_______________________________
Each of you chose God over your own life,
May I cling to my faith through the worst strife.
YOU ARE READING
Saintly Sonnets
PoetryA collection of sonnets based around saints. I just need something else to write about.
