We are of Hypocrites made

We are of hypocrites made,

Our too familiar tales of  huddled masses

and nations fled for  futures bright

across the Atlantic's broad blue wings

in hopes that stabilitiy might soon ignite

are too soon forgot, while hatred rings

like a shattreed bell in all our ears

a loud and harpish snarl to smother

the anxious creeping, repressed fears

that bark and howl at all things other

Are we not all of migrants made?

are not we of  different threads weaved?

Must our Nation's promise fade,

to bleach out our ethnic tapestry?

This poem is about: 
My country


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