Justice Denied in Massachusetts by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Let us abandon then our gardens and go home
And sit in the sitting-room
Shall the larkspur blossom or the corn grow under this cloud?
Sour to the fruitful seed
Is the cold earth under this cloud,
Fostering quack and weed, we have marched upon but cannot
We have bent the blades of our hoes against the stalks of them.

Let us go home, and sit in the sitting room. 
Not in our day 
Shall the cloud go over and the sun rise as before, 
Beneficent upon us 
Out of the glittering bay, 
And the warm winds be blown inward from the sea 
Moving the blades of corn 
With a peaceful sound. 

Forlorn, forlorn, 
Stands the blue hay-rack by the empty mow. 
And the petals drop to the ground, 
Leaving the tree unfruited. 
The sun that warmed our stooping backs and withered the weed 
We shall not feel it again. 
We shall die in darkness, and be buried in the rain. 

What from the splendid dead 
We have inherited — 
Furrows sweet to the grain, and the weed subdued — 
See now the slug and the mildew plunder. 
Evil does overwhelm 
The larkspur and the corn; 
We have seen them go under. 

Let us sit here, sit still,
Here in the sitting-room until we die;
At the step of Death on the walk, rise and go;
Leaving to our children’s children the beautiful doorway,
And this elm,
And a blighted earth to till
With a broken hoe.

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