A time of jeweled sorrow-
Though the shrunken rich whom we perceive
Will be with us still tomorrow.
The heroes our hearts do elect-
No dragons do they slay,
But strive so mighty to protect
The gremlins of yesterday.
And saints, so fine, compassionate
While tending to their neighbor,
Take heaven's grace and ration it
To sundered bank and structured labor.
If today found us in sorry state
Waving the sea we're sailing,
Rejoice! Our troubles arrive ornate
And gilded with glamorous wailing.
-James Bartholemew Wiggleston
GLAMOR, n. Misery's cowl.