The Jacobins are back in France,
Britain searches for herself,
Putin peers askance.
China sits on a pretty pile,
India was always great,
The rest of the world fidgets furtively,
Wondering at its fate.
Nature fires shards of ice
Into the hottest tea,
The Earth snarls “boy, will you pay
For what you have done to me.”
The money-makers shrug and hasten
To collar the Stock-Exchange;
Their part of the Earth seems always safe
From global climate change.
Will they sink like the rest of us
When the oceans rise?
Or will the waters part for them
To a richer paradise?