Vanguard in the Belly of the Beast, Harvard University Public Policy Program, 2003
That grace should languish so, C D
Allow her joy to rust to reel, F G
And emblem torn and tattered C F
Silk eroded b’yond appeal. C G
The premise of foundation,
Clustered round the roll at dawn,
Holds not a candle to the ritual,
From which this devastation’s drawn.
The stitches pricked from bloody palm,
That once held pride in hand,
Have long dissolved in battle,
For the Right and for the land.
This flag we wave, our fifty stars
Now trembles as we shriek,
And hoist it as a banner
For the war that soothes the weak.
Descended from gray terror,
Like the anthem of the same,
It may be ‘Stars and Stripes Forever’,
But her demise becomes our shame.
A symbol first of freedom,
Then of battle, then of war,
She carried grace, too, briefly
As we strode through progress’ door.
Now though, return to mourning due,
That grace should languish so,
As she drapes domestic menace, F C
And scribes stranger into foe. G C