A flag hung from the brick façade
Of a stately and elegant house,
The street lined with old rich homes
And ancient, shady trees.
Inscribed were the words:
"Descendants of Valley Forge,
Soldiers in George Washington's army,"
Undulating in a hot summer breeze.
Around the corner, down the street, some distance away,
A posted sign was met with casual glances each day
From an American public who, with faces pink and red,
Between wiping sweat and heaving, read:
"On this spot, until 1889, lay the house,
Richly appointed, grand, and fine,
Of So-and-So,
An enlightened man of his time,
A Founder of this great Nation,
Whose achievements in Government
And Industry were sundry and sublime."
The plot of ground was flat and empty,
A wide square paved in red brick,
With tufts of grass in places thick,
And a thin tree growing like a lonely stick.
An old, tired beggar sat beneath the tree,
Taking from the sun a brief reprieve,
Descendant, too, of Valley Forge,
Though no one would believe.
That night the beggar walked to the river and saw,
With hunger and awe, the fireworks light the evening sky,
Blotting out the stars, the very stars the Founders saw,
Their precious source of light, as they sweat in all their splendor
On those steaming summer nights.
