And must he be belauded by the smirched,
The sleek, uncanny chiefs in lies grown old?
Be warned, O wanton ones, who shielded him—
Black wrath awaits. You all shall eat the dust.
You dare not say: “Tomorrow will bring peace;
Let us make merry, and go forth in lust.”
What will you trading frogs do on a day
When Armageddon thunders thro’ the land;
When each sad patriot rises, mad with shame,
His ballot or his musket in his hand?