There was a time to leave
The Holy Roman Empire;
Capital was pressing,
And the John of Gaunt was
Full-throated in praise
Of the “sceptered Isle.”
Drake and Raleigh ruled
The seas, and the East India
Company inaugurated
Britannia and the Empire.
The fruits of separation from
Europe were real and lasting.

Alas, that sun set a long while
Ago over Britannia, and no
Red-necked noises will bring
It back anytime soon, if ever.
The Prodigal had best return
To Constantine, embracing
A larger self in plural sheen.
Now is a time when Capital
At home demands not
A return to the Renaissance,
But safety within a sisterhood
Full of Germany, Italy, France,
And all principalities that
Make up Albion’s families.
Emigrees all that we are from
Eden, immigrants too are
Children of the Fall.
The martyred Joe knew these
Things well; will you then go with
The one who did her kill?

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