To a Hitch-Hiker

SWIFTER than Eucles after Marathon,
Than supple, wingèd Mercury more fleet,
Art thou who slouch beside our highways on
Thy passive ankles and immobile feet.
How marvelous thy ways, who only stand
And wait, O godlike Moocher! Super-bum!
Far states unroll like scrolls at thy demand,
A continent before thy practised thumb.