                  I Wandered with a Wrought-up Mind

                                          I wandered with a wrought-up mind,
                                          Thinking of some troubled souls,
                                          And suddenly what did I find
                                          But a file of federal poles,
                                          Standing straight and painted well,
                                          They struck me as the queue for hell.

                                          Though crisp as any chorus line
                                          That ever graced the Broadway stage,
                                          They surely were no anodyne
                                          For my slowly building rage.
                                          Their perfect order spoke to me
                                          Of anything but comity.

                                         "Against attack they'll contravene,"
                                          Is how we have the people schooled,
                                          But they form a line between
                                          The rulers and the meekly ruled:
                                          The latter who are sent to fight
                                          And those who shirk with all their might.

                                          Now often when at home I lie
                                          In passive or in thoughtful mood,
                                          They show up in my inward eye,
                                          And stir me in my solitude.
                                          Then I join those troubled souls
                                          And curse the lines of federal poles.

David Martin, with apologies to William Wordsworth.