Political Self-Immolation (and an Ode to Walt Whitman)

But O heart! heart! heart!

O the bleeding drops of red, 

Where on the deck my TRUSS lies, 

Fallen cold and dead. 

O TRUSS! my TRUSS! rise up and hear the bells;

Rise up-for you the markets crashed-for you the pound collapsed;

For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths-for you the vultures are encircling;

For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning.

{An abridged reworking of Walt Whitman's 1865 poem O Captain! My Captain!}