Pity the nation that knows
No other language but its own And no other culture but its own
Pity the nation whose breath is money And sleeps the sleep of the too well fed
Pity the nation oh pity the people who allow their rights to erode and their freedoms to be washed away
My country, tears of thee Sweet land of liberty!
copyright Lawrence Ferlingetti
Excerpted from his first collection of poems "A Coney Island of the Mind (1958)
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