The canvas running up in a proud sweep, Wind-wrinkled at the clews, and white like lint,

It is in the nature of all party systems that the authentically political talents can assert themselves only in rare cases, and it is even rarer that the specifically political qualifications survive the petty maneuvers of party politics with its demands for plain salesmanship.

Now we add the bittern.

My Dad has taught me that in England some foolish man may call me sambo, darkie, boot or munt or nigger, even.