THE FIFTH OF JULY

                    The fireworks last night kept us awake
                     Long after we had sleepily gone to bed,
                    With all the bangs and flashes that they make,
                    Filling our agitated dogs with dread.
                    Those engineers of noise aren’t patriots
                    Or celebrating some high principle;
                   They’re just a pack of feckless idiots
                   With stunts of mayhem wantonly to pull.

                   All right, I’ll grant I’m grumpy after that,
                   And, long ago, when I was just a kid,
                   Especially at the beach where we all sat
                   Gazing at the sky while someone did
                  The job of shooting rockets high above,
                   It was a sight that even I would love.

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