her bonds and strode along the beach:
A metal titan with the strength to act
In judgment of the wretches who detract
From lessons they had lost the will to teach.
And on the slate she held was graven each
Colossal name of those whose holy pact
To build a nation still proclaimed the fact
Of storied greatness, late within our reach.
How many laurels grace the marble brow?
A race of giants had traversed the far
Face of the bannered moon. And turning now,
She smites the teeming refuse who would mar
What God has made, before they can endow
Old Glory with the Devil's waning star.
© 2010 by Ellin
Anderson. All rights reserved.
No part of this work may be copied or used in any way
without written permission from the author.