William Wilfred Campbell

(1858 - 1918 / Ontario)

The Politician - Poem by William Wilfred Campbell

Carven in leathern mask or brazen face,
Were I time's sculptor, I would set this man.
Retreating from the truth, his hawk-eyes scan
The platforms of all public thought for place.
There wriggling with insinuating grace,
He takes poor hope and effort by the hand,
And flatters with half-truths and accents bland,
Till even zeal and earnest love grow base.

Knowing no right, save power's grim right-of-way;
No nobleness, save life's ignoble praise;
No future, save this sordid day to day;
He is the curse of these material days:
Juggling with mighty wrongs and mightier lies,
This worshipper of Dagon and his flies!


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Read poems about / on: future, power, truth, hope, time, life



Poem Submitted: Tuesday, December 31, 2002

Poem Edited: Saturday, May 7, 2011


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