What’s Left

Rolling down our verdant hills,
  lush and full of life and promise,
Come all the lightest dreams
  going forth to end our sorrows.

Welcome to the alien man,
  relief for the lost and alone;
All heard a shout in their land
  that carried over the waves all round.

So I heard once, so I heard,
  and it's true at times,
I must admit. But our world
  is hard and spares not the rod.

Good is done and evil comes;
  evil comes and good is done -
And none can say what becomes
  a better land than this.

Melt away the dross that's left:
  what do you see in the mess?
I see something in the rest
  of what's left of our dreams.

Featured image: ‘Wisconsin Landscape,’ by John Steuart Curry (1938-39), image in the public domain.

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