Cumsaqured!
The first pilgrims came,
A limping weary triad that
Leaped joyously onto the Gray Tooth
That mouthed the open sea-free land
With the long raw sawing shore.
The first pilgrims saw
And through blank air spied a mimicry:
Persecution’s past peasantry:
Shy untamed civils
Sporting informal tattooed redskins
And towering quiet teepees…
What antiphonal merriment must
Have librated through their sympathies
Upon befriending this new American way.
But the first pilgrims conquered,
Trampling out the vintage
Where the Indians stored their peace,
Pushing down blue mountain vales like smoke,
And overturning squatters roots,
Pushing…
Pushing the naiveté of ecological savagery
Along a trail of many tears,
Making more room for the Saved-free rebellious people
Who came and saw and now must conquer,
Leaping joyously onto the Black Pale Slab of fratricide
That now mouths the Coastal Societal Shore of Misery.
--Dumas fils,