What green-ey'd monster now is this,
Strolling our land o'er in triumph—
With great boldness? Whence his country,
Or his home? Stranger is he, or,
Native of our land, peculiar?
Indigenous, or by whatever
Name is he known? If he be friend,
He comes in shapes most comely,
Yet most questionable; indeed,
The mark of falsehood is upon
His brow. He has and wears a face
Double—nay more, e'en his very
Judgments warped are—his eye not
Single. Reason! he hath it not!
Nor will he be reasoned with.
Yet most wilily hath he entwined
Himself among, around statesmen,
Politicians. In sanctuaries
Hath he gone, throwing his influence
There among—corrupting, and, yea
Poisoning all the clear, pure streams
Of piety and peace. The name
He bears is, Prejudice!—his home
America!—birthplace, the pit!