The late liberty of man is lost
Spent as so many thousand t-bills
As generously lent as oil spills
To a world– that needs not the cost
Nor the benefit? and what will make them clean
What happens when the loss is unforeseen
Has misfortune been among the great uncaused
Will the birds and bankers will to forget?
So strike iron! that unmistakable sound
And bury them deep in the ground, ground, ground
Let some age else then bear that debt
In a world yet more unstarcrossed
For the late liberty of man is lost.
Fills a gap in what had been a pregnant and awkward silence of poets on the subject of Quantitative Easing.