NEARLY to boil, I haste me to my head,
The dear silence of mind with disgust tired,
But then starts a voyage that I do dread
To play my mind when an idiot's sired;
For the ideas, from my U.S. of A.,
Intend a sick expedition to thee,
And keep my synapses in much foul play
Looking on danger which the Rove does see;
Save that my country's presumed good and right,
Presents thy evil to my sighted view,
Which, like a Republican hung tonight,
Makes black night beauteous and the old pride new
Lo, thus by day my heart, by night my face,
For thee, for myself, and the human race