Daily Whitman


To The States [To Identify the 16th, 17th, or 18th Presidentiad]

  Why reclining, interrogating? why myself and all drowsing?
  What deepening twilight-scum floating atop of the waters,
  Who are they as bats and night-dogs askant in the capitol?
  What a filthy Presidentiad! (O South, your torrid suns! O North,
      your arctic freezings!)
  Are those really Congressmen? are those the great Judges? is that
      the President?
  Then I will sleep awhile yet, for I see that these States sleep, for
  (With gathering murk, with muttering thunder and lambent shoots we
      all duly awake,
  South, North, East, West, inland and seaboard, we will surely awake.)

Posted on 28/12/2014, in literature, poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: