Transcendental Sonnet #1066:
Our Dead Arise
You greedy smirking bastards! How dare you
To steal this land of which my parents dreamed
Across the sea? The shining city seemed
A paradise a refuge beckoning
In twenty days your day of reckoning
Will be here but we fear that you will do
As you have done and steal our hope away
Our brother runs a higher judgement day
Than yours and not in one state but in all
May autumn prove the season of your fall
This season of pain we struggle again
Our dead arise from early graves unjust
Indict accuse bear witness that we must
Turn out those who have turned their youth to dust
+Steven Curtis Lance
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