Sonnet II

How young what faces shake my soul so deep,
With crescent eyes bent under from the sun,
Like those so blinded from the world’s unrest,
Just waiting idly by for Kingdom Come.

Our spirits plagued with growing greed and pride,
We plant our evil seeds in foreign soil.
In fighting for our common, clay-cut kind,
Our truest treason could not be more loyal.

Let freedom ring from sea to shining sea,
But tremble at the hearth of polar thought.
With minds oppressed and skeletons of lead,
Their daily fatal battles must be fought.

If Godly sons could curb our ebbing souls,
Then may we now surrender moral roles.