Earth has not anything to show more rotten:
Blind would he be of soul who did not vomit,
At sight corrupted by its greed:
This City now doth, like a thief, believe,
It is above the people it belongs to,
Senators, congressmen, for private money dance,
Open unto corruption, and to the money;
All bright and glittering in their hungry pockets.
Never did sun more angrily set
Upon a place more base in it’s intent;
Ne’er saw I, never felt, a nausea so deep!
While the people die for want of bread:
Dear God! the houses vote to feed the rich;
And all that mighty body protects the one percent!
(with apologies to William Wordsworth)