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Not like Rome, that foreign forces claim.
The sun shall never set on this great vast land.
Here at the seawall, sunset gates, closed they stand.
A mighty group with torches, whose flame
Is the imprisoned storm, and their name
Fathers of freedom. From their blazing-hand
Glows nation-wide patriotism. Their angry eyes command
The highest office that twin wings frame
“Good people, on both sides!” cries he
With loquacious lips. “Keep your tired, your poor,
Your rapists and murders, violence will be set free
On this beautiful and great shore.
Send these, the Muslims and refugees back to thee
and send your kids to I.C.E.’s door!”
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