Allard Lowenstein

To the Editors of The Crimson:

Poem for Allard Lowenstein

I

Don't let it come with Schwerner, Chaney, & Goodman, Don't let it come in Vietnam, Don't let it come in the streets of Chicago, Don't let it come in Washington; Don't let it come with Martin or Bobby, In Soweto or Moscow or Afghanistan, Please God don't let it come in Jerusalem-- But let me be buried with my ancestors... Let me sleep in peace, at an old age, Smiling eyes, and laughing face Because my dreams have come to pass And all I hoped for has been realized.

II

"How the mighty are fallen", And still there is no peace; The wicked men take the gun & break the heart Of the honest man.

The workingman, the poor, the humble & gentle, Lose an advocate a friend;-- It's like losing a brother.

Their philospher-King Who danced at the Ark Has two bullets in his heart-- And a bed in a cave underneath The ground.

The candleflame flickers; He sleeps.

III

"i'm young & vital & can defend myself with both hands & both feet--

this is the age of reason: THE WORLD IS MY COUNTRY TO DO GOOD MY RELIGION.

i can fight for it, it's a free country!

I can fight in the Streets by my Words!" --Norman C. Kaplan, GSAS