The Ballade of the Burning River

Ezra of the Cleftlands

'Twas three years hence when marching home came John
that first the Cuyahoga turned to flame.
From fact'ries sweet industry was drawn
the wealth and filth that gave the land its fame.
"'Tis naught but price fair paid," that was the claim,
"great wealth," they said, "it does not come unearned."
No men, therefore, were e'er assigned the blame
when hot and bright the Cuyahoga burned.

A hundred years it churned and bubbled on,
not flowing fast but noxious ooze became.
No river's bounty for what fish could spawn?
A dozen times and once it caught aflame:
the last, the year Apollo made its name.
The nation's focus from hea'n to earthward turned.
"This must no longer be" they did proclaim
when hot and bright the Cuyahoga burned.

Now fifty years of work have come and gone
and still the struggle is not overcame.
But all the same, for man and beast, new dawn
hath come: to see it through remains our aim.
By Carl and Louis, the brothers Stokes' name,
we will not let their lessons be unlearned.
Let history the memory enframe
when hot and bright the Cuyahoga burned.

I pray, my friends, that you will do the same:
think not 'tis wise to yet be unconcerned,
lest all of us will learn the depthless shame
when hot and bright the Cuyahoga burns... again.

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