The subject of a thousand nervous scenes
With only fondest hope forfending doom,
Amid the stacks of dog-eared magazines,
The family perches in the waiting room,
Inhaling disinfectant from the halls
Green washed in their standard, sterile hue,
They blankly wad the tissues into balls
And pray that there is something left to do;
A doctor and a stench waft through the door,
“We need one more transfusion, that’s the trick!
“The patient will be healthy as before,
“No more will our economy be sick.”
The corpse is dessicating, as we know,
So just the hair and nails appear to grow.
Books on the topics discussed in Nascentes Morimur may be found in The Imaginative Conservative Bookstore.
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We address a wide variety of major issues including: What is the essence of conservatism? What was the role of faith in the American Founding? Is liberal learning still possible in the modern academy? Should conservatives and libertarians be allies? What is the proper role for the American Republic in spreading ordered liberty to other cultures/nations?
What fun! A real sonnet, a sonnet that rhymes and scans! And how rare, even in purportedly conservative journals.
Thank you!
— Mack Hall (posting as anonymous only because I don't know any other way)