Song To The Men Of England by Percy Bysshe Shelley

Men of England, wherefore plough
For the lords who lay ye low?
Wherefore weave with toil and care
The rich robes your tyrants wear?

Wherefore feed and clothe and save,
From the cradle to the grave,
Those ungrateful drones who would
Drain your sweat — nay, drink your blood?

Wherefore, Bees of England, forge
Many a weapon, chain, and scourge,
That these stingless drones may spoil
The forced produce of your toil?

Have ye leisure, comfort, calm,
Shelter, food, love’s gentle balm?
Or what is it ye buy so dear
With your pain and with your fear?

The seed ye sow another reaps;
The wealth ye find another keeps;
The robes ye weave another wears;
The arms ye forge another bears.

Sow seed, — but let no tyrant reap;
Find wealth, — let no imposter heap;
Weave robes, — let not the idle wear;
Forge arms, in your defence to bear.

Shrink to your cellars, holes, and cells;
In halls ye deck another dwells.
Why shake the chains ye wrought? Ye see
The steel ye tempered glance on ye.

With plough and spade and hoe and loom,
Trace your grave, and build your tomb,
And weave your winding-sheet, till fair
England be your sepulchre!

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Barack Hussein Obama’s Nobel Peace Prize by Dennis Lange

Barack Hussein Obama’s Nobel Peace Prize

It was a monumental thing
…That no one will forget,
Like the Titanic hitting ice,
…Or tissues getting wet. 

We search our minds and know the cause –
…Leastwise, we think we do:
The lion and lamb now lie in peace –
…The Arab and the Jew. 

Let’s not leave out Guantanamo –
…When promise kept, how sweet!
The dirty birds have flown the cage,
…And terror’s in retreat. 

Republicans and Democrats –
…No longer partisan!
His leading by example means
…Crass politics all shun. 

Iraqi War has gone away –
…Ere him, it was the plan.
But there, the sabers rattle now,
…And still Afghanistan. 

And what’s that droning that I hear,
…That sudden bomb that bursts?
It surely cannot mean that he
…Has blood among his thirsts. 

And yet, the puzzle still remains;
…The pieces do not fit.
The prize was won before those things,
…And not by little bit. 

Now puzzle we on puzzle lay;
…The nomination came
With him as chief for just twelve days.
…Then where’s his peaceful claim? 

It cannot be what he has done,
…But only what he said.
His teleprompter’s really good!
…And Nobel faces red.

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2014.

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