O Land of warbling Nightingales across
Th'Atlantic pond where golden Daffodils
Dance for the sheepish Clouds that shade the hills
And trees are emerald green with clinging moss,
My Heart is griev'd for thy most grievous Loss
Of Liberty as Tyranny fulfills
His loathsomest Designs and swiftly kills
The Speech that should be free, however gross.
Despair thee not.  The Lord of Love and Might,
Though he doth try thy Patience, He shall yet
Shatter the Teeth of Tyranny and set
The Captives free, the broken Bones aright.
Father will come (have faith, for God is just)
And resurrect the Tongue that tastes the dust.

🌞🌏
🕊🌹🌴🐦🌳🐝🍒🦋🐿
❤👦👧
❤🔊👦👧🍎🌳👅❌☠
👦👧👍
🐍🔊👧❤🔊👧🌴🌳🌲❌
👧🔊🐍🍍🍌🍐🌴🌲👅
👧🔊🐍❤🔊👧🍎🌳👅❌☠
🐍­🔊­👧☠❌
🐍🔊👧🍎🌳📚😇👹
👧👀🍎👅😇
👧👀🍎📚
👧🍎👅
👦🍎👅
🤯😱
☠
🥀
❌🕊🌹🌴🐦🌳🐝🍒🦋🐿❌
😭

Steeled by the sense of ire unmerited,
Half-eased in that a Powerfuller than I
Has willed and meted me the tears I've shed,
I clench my fist and shake it at the sky

And at the vengeful God who hammers me,
Delivering the blows that break my brain;
The God who finds his deepest ecstasy
In violencing my life with blinding pain;

Who laughs and says, "Thou suffering thing, declare
If thou hast understanding: Who hath laid
The measures of the earth's foundations?  Where
O where wast thou, O man, whenas I made
The cloud the garment of the sea?  How dare
Thou, foolish man, thy maker to upbraid?"

O Lord, I am thy workmanship;
     And shall the *** of clay
     Unto the potter say,
Dash me to dust, for I've a chip?
                              Nay.

Perhaps the potter uses scraps
     For purposes the ***
     Would likely like a lot
If he but knew.  Perhaps.  Perhaps
                              Not.

Echo, tell me: Which men have fallen the Fall?        All.

And what is God, who's all in all, all of?        Love.

What should I place within the beggar's palms?        Alms.  

God made the feathers that makes the sparrow's flight        Light.

To sinners, how appear the ways of God?        Odd.

What has the Lord given to him who hears?        Ears.

What do they have who see through Satan's lies?        Eyes.

The saints who run to face the throne of grace        Race.

Who is the great-grandmother of the Truth?        Ruth.

From whom descended all the thin men of Haddam?        Adam.

Whom did the snake first practice to deceive?        Eve.

On her I place the burden of all the blame.        Lame.

What do I give the giver who gave the Law?        Awe.

I invented the electron multiplier.        Liar.

Meet me beneath the olive-tre
I'th'garden of Gethsemane
Quhair Jesus pray'd.  Pray thou with me.

Twa corbies mak an hairie nest
Within the gardens wooden brest.
The Sunne is running tow'rd the west.

From off the tre the fruicte doth fall
Upon the firm fixt flatten'd ball
Of wormwood Earth whose seas are gall.