I'll read another poem, which is called "Johnson's Cabinet
Watched by Ants."
And this is a literary poem.
And it comes out of the great story
by Hawthorn called Young Goodman Brown.
That's a marvelous, tremendous story.
And he describes a certain uneasiness he felt,
or that was felt in the early puritan settlements.
When the leading men of the town--
at night he describes them all dancing around trees,
and conversing, and signed a pact with something.
Better not to investigate it too carefully.
And then in the morning, they're back in town again.
They're dressed in their suits, the sun is shining.
They're the respected citizens, they're going to church.
And the whole story lies in this strange context.
So this poem takes place there in the forest.
It is a clearing deep in a forest.
Overhanging boughs make a low place.
And here the citizens we know during the day,
the ministers, the department heads, appear differently.
The stockholders of large steel companies
in small wooden shoes.
Here are the generals dressed as gamboling lambs.
Tonight they burn the rice supply.
Tomorrow they lecture on Thoreau.
Tonight they move around the trees.
Tomorrow they pick the twigs from their clothes.
Tonight they throw the firebomb.
Tomorrow they read the Declaration of Independence.
Tomorrow they are in church.
Ants are gathered around an old tree.
In a choir they sing, in harsh and gravelly voices,
old Etruscan songs on tyranny.
Toads nearby clap their small hands,
and join the fiery songs, their five long toes trembling
in the soaked earth.