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Poem	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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