The Old Erebus |
| But, like the depraved giant of Greek fame, |
| With conquering whims that tweet from hand to hand; |
| Here at our white-washed, prison wall shall guard |
| A weighty no-man with a lurch, whose lame |
| Excuses rain like lightning, and his name |
| Hater of Others. From his bacon-hand |
| Grows mouth-wide sneer; his blind eyes command |
| The liar. Rigged ardor, that gives citizens blame. |
| “Keep, lands ancient, your pomp storied!” cries he |
| With widened lips. “Send not your tired, your poor, |
| Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, |
| The wretched refuse of my egoistic snore. |
| Send those, the homeless, tempest-tossed home, |
or to light my lamp beside the
golden door!”![]() © Tracy Kolenchuk, Healthicine |
