Letter to England

For Tommy Robinson

I

But yesterday, your noble fathers bled
Upon the fields of France, where countless dead
Had found among the vines their final rest,
To gild with fame a venerated crest
Whose princely brandishing from age to age
Outlasted armies and the tyrant’s rage.
But yesterday, you bravely fought and won
A war against the socialistic Hun
Who sought to clap you in the helot’s chains
And seize the free world’s economic reins.
Again, but yesterday, the darkest hour
Of all the world you lifted by your power,
When many owed so much to you, so few,
Across all continents and oceans blue;
No sacrifice too great, no effort spared,
You rallied to the battle and declared,
In England’s name, the inauspicious fight
Against the German Marxist and his spite.
When fire from your once-peaceful skies rained down
On London’s ancient temples of renown,
Your valour triumphed over every fear
Whose darkness could not mute your English cheer.
You fought, yet weeping for your sons that died,
And rose to glory on your fathers’ pride!

II

Would you, brave sons of Britain’s best
Now crawl in servitude at the behest
Of Prussia’s despot and her Eastbourne stooge,
And let your nation fall to subterfuge?
Would you embrace their Novus Ordo plot
To make you into something you are not,
Abandoning your martyrs’ ancient faith
In globalist apostasy to bathe,
Or sanctify Mohammed’s violent hordes
Who now seize power from your local lords?
Your government, a servile rubber-stamp,
Now makes your world into a migrant camp.
Already London teems with Saracens,
But will not welcome us Americans!

Full many are the masks that Satan wears:
Take Corbyn and his self-anointing airs,
Nicola Sturgeon and Theresa May,
Who nourish Brussels while your towns decay.
These bear no love for you and never will,
But count as meaningless the nation’s will.
For Britain’s debt you have these frauds to thank:
What is their “Europe” but a German bank?
Whose fattened bureaucrats, a pampered club,
Appropriate your wealth, your selves to snub!
Corrupt, they steal and loot without surcease:
What Hitler lost through war they grab through peace!

Would you allow their constant plundering
To go unspoken with their blundering?
Surrender speech to their repressive state
To share with the Chinese a eunuch’s fate?
Would you let England topple on the brink,
Whilst petty deskmen dictate what you think?
Or let robotic censors gag your cries,
Whilst leftists freely spew their shop-worn lies?

For, Freedom’s charter is an empty creed,
Until the day Tom Robinson is freed!

III

Fair England, land of hills and columbine,
Most gracious land, of rills and eglantine,
Return to thy devout, ancestral ways,
The regal virtues of thy former days!
Come forth in all thy splendor, pow’r, and might,
Proclaim thy fealty to truth and right!
Arise, O England, take thy rightful place,
Let not the heathen thy good self debase!
The sun is rising on thy fields of green,
And glory waits for thee in stars unseen.
The sword of Arthur has ennobled thee:
Thou wast not made for chains and slavery.
The clang of battle on the winds of time
And shouts of knights that echo in my rhyme,
Resound this day in every village square
And rise to heaven like an antique prayer,
That there will always and forever be
An England where the mind and heart are free
To celebrate her once and future King
Whom prophets prophesied and poets sing,
That Mary’s Dowry not be spent in vain
But magnify the Holy Virgin’s reign,
When Christ shall every bond of hate unbind
And England hold a torch for all mankind.

July 15, 2018

By |2018-07-27T20:35:39+00:00July 16th, 2018|Categories: Poem|Tags: , , , , , , , |0 Comments

About the Author:

Joseph Charles MacKenzie is a traditional lyric poet, a "sonetero" from New Mexico where his family has been for over 400 years. He is First Place winner of the Scottish International Poetry Competition (Long Poem Section) and a Pushcart Prize nominee. His verses have appeared in The New York Times, The Scotsman (Edinburgh), The Independent (London), US News and World Report, Google News, and many other outlets. He writes exclusively for Trinacria (New York) and the Society of Classical Poets (New York).

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