Watching That Golden Prize Be Lost

“Oh, Liberty! thou golden prize,
    So often sought by blood— 
We crave thy sacred sun to rise,
    The gift of nature’s God!”

Clouds gather, and a distant rumble
Reaches my ear—approaching thunder— 
As this proud nation, poised to stumble
Moves thoughtlessly into some blunder.

A thoughtless horde of men and women
Perverting Christian piety
Rush to fulfill an evil omen,
Skipping towards Potter’s Field with glee.

However did the soul of man
Attain such hubris? Artificial
The self-opinion which began
When theft made mankind prejudicial.

What kind of people will allow
Its use of language to descend
To lies, distortions such that now
No man upon truth dare depend.

My country, it is well for you
To draw a line upon the sand,
A demarcation, so as to
Make scapegoats, love a contraband.

If love and truth be dead today
Then from this empire I secede:
We will be slain that do no slay
But will not acquiesce to greed.

No human thing I do not know
(As Terence said), not alien
Though mobs condemn or make a show
Boasting themselves the best of men.

My country, it is very well
If by disaster, some purgation
Be had for souls enacting hell,
And yet I tremble for this nation.

“Oh, Liberty! thou golden prize,
    So often sought by blood— 
We crave thy sacred sun to rise,
    The gift of nature’s God!”