The boy stood on the burning deck
Whence all but he had fled;
The flame that lit the battle's wreck
Shone round him o'er the dead.
With mast, and helm, and pennon fair,
That well had borne their part;
But the noblest thing which perished there
Was that young, faithful heart.
Yet beautiful and bright he stood,
As born to rule the storm;
A creature of heroic blood,
A proud though child-like form.
The flames rolled on—he would not go
Without his Father's word;
That Father, faint in death below,
His voice no longer heard.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pizza_Margherita
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Margaret_Sanger
a "free-thinking" stonemason father, Michael Hennessey Higgins