Decreed

Those who have are fewer still Than all the castles edged with time's ruin The havenots lack no sparse of will To litter their bread on a fruitless moon When the wars are done, let us count The silent millions by hunger killed The mirage of Ponce De Leon's fount The phony honor in laws we billed I shall never be silent while life remains Nor prune with logic the stunted trees Man's injustice brought me here in chains I shall not on your Dura bend my knees O children, black, yellow, green, or white Dust must be the serpent's food and not us The new spate of homeless veiled from sight Not us saddled and burdened with disgust O hear me, and steal you for the final fight Against this enemy snaked around our toil We shall no more drink the bitter milk of night Nor yield an inch of power or soil.