Look not to a constellation
For a portent for the nation,
As still we live beneath a pall
With the meanest rent of all.
Ask not for a sign celestial
Beaconed to the realm terrestrial,
Ask instead how deeds infernal
Sit before the Judge Eternal.
What can we do for country fair?
What can a mere plebeian dare,
When honored men have gravely spoken,
Leaving trust in honor broken?
Trust your judgment, trust your eyes,
Take no comfort in their lies,
Let them make their devil's pact,
Keep your integrity intact.
If Teutons can tear down their wall,
And gulag commissars can fall,
Then truth at home at last can out,
Assassins can be put to rout.
With no Mark Antony in sight,
The land can still be put aright,
So we can say before we die
That we have ceased to live a lie.
Though history cannot be reversed,
We still can learn how we were cursed
To blunder badly in the East,
And see the dogs of war released.
Could one so flawed have done so much
To keep us out of evil's clutch?
‘Tis true indeed we hardly knew him,
Ere we had a chance they slew him.
David Martin
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