John Greenleaf Whittier

I heard this poem recited on NPR this morning. Rather appropriate.

The Poor Voter on Election Day
by John Greenleaf Whittier

The proudest now is but my peer,
The highest not more high.
To-day, of all the weary year,
A king of men am I.

My palace is the people's hall,
The ballot-box my throne!
For there alike are great and small,
The nameless and the known.

Who serves to-day upon the list,
Beside the serfs shall stand.
Alike the brown and wrinkled fist,
The gloved and dainty hand.

The rich is leveled with the poor,
The weak is strong to-day;
And sleekest broadcloth counts no more
Than homespun frock of gray.

To-day let pomp and vain pretence
My stubborn right abide;
I set a plain man's common sense
Against the pedant's pride.

Today shall simple manhood try
The strength of gold and land.
The wide world has not wealth to buy
The power in my right hand!

While there’s a grief to seek redress,
Or balance to adjust,
Where weighs our living manhood
Less than mammon’s vilest dust?

While there’s a right to need my vote
A wrong to sweep away
Up, clouded knee and ragged coat
A man’s a man to-day.