Robinson Jeffers for This Fourth

While this America settles in the mould of its vulgarity,

I sadly smiling remember that the flower fades to make fruit,

         the fruit rots to make earth.

You making haste on decay: not blameworthy;

Life is good, be it stubbornly long or suddenly

         a mortal splendor:

Meteors are not needed less than mountains:

 shine, perishing republic.

But for my children, I would have them keep their distance

From the thickening center; corruption

         never has been compulsory,

And boys, be in nothing so moderate as in love of man,

         a clever servant, insufferable master.

There is the trap that catches noblest spirits,

That caught – they say –

 God, when he walked on earth.

–– Robinson Jeffers'  "Shine Perishing Republic," 1925, condensed.