The Fourteenth of July

By Esther Cameron 

All in the dewy morning

On the fourteenth of July

I went to walk beneath the trees

That grow so green and high.

And there I met Tom Jefferson,

He was pacing up and down,

His head was sunk upon his chest,

His face it wore a frown.

“What is the matter, sir,” I said,

“Or what is it you seek?”

“I’m looking for the people

With whom I wish to speak.”

“What do you mean,” I cried in fear,

“I see them all around.”

“I see their bodies just like you,

But their spirits are not found.

“They do not hear, they do not see,

They walk with empty eyes.”

“I guess you mean the media

That have got them hypnotized.

“Their ears are filled with crashing sound,

Their eyes with flashing lights,

Their minds too full of greed and gore

To sort out truth from lies.

“They have no time to meet and talk

And hear the liberty bell —

It is as if some evil king

Had bound them in a spell.”

“Climb up, climb up into that tower,

“And ring that bell once more.”

“That bell has got a crack,” I replied,

The sound would not go o’er.”

“Then you must forge it new,” he said,

“In the flame of your desire,

Until they come together

To hear what freedom requires.

“Tell them to keep the Sabbath,

A day when all are free:

That day they must not buy nor sell

Nor sit and watch TV.

“It is a day to meet and talk

And find the ones they trust

To keep their hands from bribery

And on wisdom to insist.

“And these in turn together

Will meet in council high

To write a Constitution

For the coming century.

“For everything wears out at last

And needs to be renewed

Out of the ancient spirit

Of truth and rectitude.

“That spirit has a mighty power,

Although the odds be high;

Will you go and tell the people?”

I said that I would try.