Walt 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         reasons; (With gathering murk, with muttering thunder and lambent shoots we         all duly awake, South, North, East, West, inland and seaboard, we will surely awake.)


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