ToffPh
@toffph.bsky.social
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anthologist of Victorian Christmas ghost stories
local historian and gravestone conservationist
H. C. Dodge & shape poem collector
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/20841298.Christopher_Philippo/blog
https://www.findagrave.com/user/profile/477914
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![THE FUTURE “AMERICA.”
My country, 'tis of thee.
Land of lost Liberty,
Of thee we sing.
Land which the millionaires,
Who govern our affairs,
Own for themselves and heirs—
Hall to thy king.
Land once of noble braves,
But now of wretched slaves—
Alas! too late.
We saw sweet Freedom die,
From letting bribers high
Our unprized suffrage buy.
And mourn thy fate.
Land where the wealthy few
Can make the many do
Their royal will.
And tax for selfish greed
Thy toilers till they bleed.
And those not yet weak-kneed
Crush down and kill.
Land where a rogue is raised
On high and loudly praised
For worst of crimes.
Of which the end must be
A hell of cruelty,
As proved by history
Of ancient times,
My country, 'tis of thee.
Betrayed by bribery.
Of thee we sing.
We might have saved thee long.
Had we, when proud and strong,
Put down the cursed wrong
That makes thy king.
—H. C. Dodge, in N. Y. World.
Yakima Herald [Washington Territory]. April 11, 1889: 1 col 3.](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:rykdmiisbjdf4ooel7bxlrfu/bafkreihapy45d7ks66pdml5fiksoiqylxlvkx44z4fmjssy4lkopmhmw4q@jpeg)
