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National Review, March 28, 2005 by Richard O'Connell
CHURCHILL
Grandma Fallon flew up to her feet,
Knocking the kettle to the kitchen
floor,
Drawing herself up stiff and tall:
"I am a British subject still!"
She said as she shivered on a Dublin
street
All day to see her Queen.
She never would become American,
Refusing to relinquish that dark knot
Of hurt and rage
That swelled her servile heart.
The Black and Tans are gone.
Gone, gone that brutal brand
Of iced civility
That impressed on the lowliest
Dirt man the dream of gentleman.
Few mourn today
In Dublin Nairobi and Bombay.
The world moves to a less impressive
sway.
Tame, tame the Lion toothless, starved
and mewed,
Woke briefly from his marble spell
To rip the jackal with his claws
By an indomitable old will
That found some scraps of dignity to
save.
An empire passes in that wave . . .
We doubt we can go down as well.
--RICHARD O'CONNELL
COPYRIGHT 2005 National Review, Inc.
COPYRIGHT 2008 Gale, Cengage Learning
