THE POEM BY THE POTOMAC.
Joaquin Miller
aine! The Prison of France! La fayette! - The Bastile key to our Washington,
- Whose feet on the neck of tyrants set
- Shattered their prisons every one.
- The key hangs here on his white walls high,
- That all shall see, that none shall for get
- What tyrants have been, what they may be yet;
- And the Potomac rolling by.
- On Washington's walls let it rust and rust,
- And tell its story of blood and of tears,
- That Time still holds to the Poet's trust,
- To people his pages for years and years.
- The monstrous shape on the white walls high,
- Like a thief in chains let it rot and rust
- Its kings and adorers crowned in dust:
- And the Potomac rolling by.