Bidding us twain upon thy glory call.
Harsh light hath rent from us the golden pall
Of that frail sleep, His first light seigniory,
And we are come through all the modes that fall
Unto their lot who meet him constantly.
“One can attempt to explain this Administration in a variety of ways, but folie à deux is perhaps too optimistic, and on the other hand I do not want to believe that we get what we deserve.”