To The States To Identify the 16th 17th or 18th Presidentiad by Walt Whitman Lyrics

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.)