Article link: Obama’s victory should settle a bitter argument
I strode into the public square
To politick the throng.
I hoped to get a hearing there,
But found that I was wrong.
I spoke of freedom to achieve,
By labor well applied.
But multitudes would sooner reave
Than have the gilt subside.
I spoke to them of wrong and right,
Of evil and the good.
But greed and envy, hate and spite
Were all they understood.
I spoke to them of sacrifice,
Of temperance and restraint.
But welfare was their asking price,
And Marx their patron saint.
Perhaps a generation hence
The spell that Marx has cast,
Will yield to truth and common sense
And virtue’s reign at last.
And thus, returning to the square,
I politick the crowd.
I hope to get a hearing there;
Defeated, but unbowed.