The Day That Justice Died: For Antonin Scalia Poem by Michael Walker

Death in Texas now has come for him,
Who sat upon the ancient judges' bench
Until his eagle vision had grown dim
Before words writ in blood which ink must drench.

Foggy Bottom dreads the words he said
From the mystic isles of Sicily,
Whence by the Lord Himself he had been led,
To save our nation from their perfidy.

Was this not the day that justice died?
Mister Smith had fled from Washington,
While Lady Liberty stood still and sighed.
The Constitution's just a skeleton.

Scalia has escaped the state unscathed,
While the scythe of wrath is being lathed.