The selection for this week comes from Poet Robinson Jeffers
Shine, Perishing Republic
While this America settles in the mould of its vulgarity,
heavily thickening to empire.
And protest, only a bubble in the molten mass, pops and sighs out, and the mass hardens,
I sadly smiling remember that the flower fades to make fruit, the fruit rots to make earth.
Out of the mother; and through the spring exultances,
ripeness and deca-dence; and home to the mother.
You making haste on decay: not blameworthy; life is good, be it stub-bornly long or sudden.
A mortal splendor: meteors are not needed less than mountains:
shine, perishing republic.
But for my children, I would have them keep their distance from the thick-ening center;
corruption never has been compulsory.
When the cities lie at the monster's feet there are left the mountains.
And boys, be in nothing so moderate as in love of man, a clever servant, insufferable master.
There is the trap that catches noblest spirits, that caught--they say
God, when he walked on earth.
Source: The Poems of Robinson Jeffers