Lock up all the Poets, first

Before the revolution

Let's make a resolution

To lock up all the poets

In a hall.

Give them roses, give them wine,

But never give them time

To stir up other people—

Not at all.

Shunting poor (or even rich)

Is done without a hitch:

Merely play to their fears

With finesse.

But poets can't be bought

With a shimmy or a shot;

If they ever learn the Truth—

It's a mess.

So give them cotton candy,

Or anything that's handy,

To shield their stellar eyes

From the War.

By the time they discover

That Freedom has been smothered,

Their pens will be shortened

By a sword.