At Valley Forge the picnic parties drill,

And armed with sandwiches, defend the hill.

The states have sent their motor cars to aid

The country's crisis with a dress parade

Of dogwood bloom, through the darkest hours

Americans endure such weariness

As only motor-picnickers can guess.

Headquarters House is desperate and sad.

The secret's plain: the situation's bad.

All day the people shuffle through the door,

Stare at the general's bed, the cloak he wore.

In traffic, tabloids movies. These they know,

These are eternals and of some avail;

Boredom besieges; Washington will fail.

The General was not in. He'd gone away,

No one knew where. He'd not been seen today.

Prayed God to light and keep alive the faces,

To give them greatness back, and nobler graces,

Clean blood, more love, new hope, good taste, good wit.

God knows the country badly needed it.