still vex'd

native dialect turns into mother tongue
your ear descries only a broken speech
your mind defines this people as a leech
and wants to tell us it will be unsung
our lyre you tell us ever was unstrung
and there is nothing that we have to teach
but our desire has gone far past your reach
and we will not remain forever young
the point is not that caliban's the dog
nor that ariel remains a willing slave
miranda's not that glittering a prize
setebos is not buried under that log
and there are other creatures in the grave
this island is not measured by your eyes