Today is Election Day in the country in which I was born. Here is my prediction: whatever the outcome, on Wednesday morning the United States of America will go on being the United States of America. Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, James Madison, Alexander Hamilton, and the rest of that brilliant, star-crossed group knew a thing or two. Here, in the words of Clint Eastwood, is one of the things they knew:
"I would just like to say something, ladies and gentlemen. Something that I think is very important. It is that you, we -- we own this country. We own it. . . . It is not politicians owning it. Politicians are employees of ours."
You say a thousand things,
And with strange passion hotly I agree,
And praise your zest,
A blackbird sings
On April lilac, or fieldfaring men,
Ghostlike, with loaded wain,
Come down the twilit lane
And what is all your argument to me?
Oh yes -- I know, I know,
It must be so --
You must devise
Your myriad policies,
For we are little wise,
And must be led and marshalled, lest we keep
Too fast a sleep
Far from the central world's realities.
Yes, we must heed --
For surely you reveal
Life's very heart; surely with flaming zeal
You search our folly and our secret need;
And surely it is wrong
To count my blackbird's song,
My cones of lilac, and my wagon team,
More than a world of dream.
A voice calls from the hill --
I must away --
I cannot hear your argument to-day.
John Drinkwater, Tides (1917).