Pity the nation whose people are sheep and whose shepherds mislead them.
Pity the nation whose leaders are liars, whose sages are silenced, and whose bigots haunt the airwaves.
Pity the nation that raises not its voice except to praise conquerors and acclaim the bully as hero and aims to rule the world with force and by torture.
Pity the nation that knows no other language but its own and no other culture but its own.
Pity the nation whose breath is money and sleeps the sleep of the too well fed.
Pity the nation – oh, pity the people who allow their rights to erode and their freedoms to be washed away.
My country, tears of thee, sweet land of liberty.
-- Lawrence Ferlinghetti (2007)
“If we are to have another contest in the near future of our national existence, I predict that the dividing line will not be Mason and Dixon's but between patriotism and intelligence on the one side, and superstition, ambition and ignorance on the other.”
― Ulysses S. Grant
The following multifaceted poem is not so easy. Definitely takes a detached view, maybe not a bad thing, but not an easy thing. I suppose on the one hand, it's an honor and privilege to be able to experience the decay, but it's not easy and I don't know if it's inevitable. But it gives us an opportunity to shine, there is that; to look on the bright side. ("Only in the darkness can you see the stars" -- MLK.) I feel the ending of this poem is a bit pessimistic. We must have faith in humanity. Maybe Jeffers is just advising to be cautious.
Shine, Perishing Republic
While this America settles in the mould of its vulgarity, heavily thickening to empire
And protest, only a bubble in the molten mass, pops and sighs out, and the mass hardens,
I sadly smiling remember that the flower fades to make fruit, the fruit rots to make earth.
Out of the mother; and through the spring exultances, ripeness and decadence; and home to the mother.
You making haste haste on decay: not blameworthy; life is good, be it stubbornly long or suddenly
A mortal splendor: meteors are not needed less than mountains: shine, perishing republic.
But for my children, I would have them keep their distance from the thickening center; corruption
Never has been compulsory, when the cities lie at the monster's feet there are left the mountains.
And boys, be in nothing so moderate as in love of man, a clever servant, insufferable master.
There is the trap that catches noblest spirits, that caught — they say — God, when he walked on earth.
-- Robinson Jeffers
And always remember this Turkish proverb:
"When a clown moves into a palace, he doesn't become a king. The palace becomes a circus."
