Hymn For Hillary Rodham

The title of First Lady is no more than a reflected fame, resting to such laurel falls outside her choosing frame. Devotion and diligence having delineated her career trace, faith and fidelity having paved decades of her footpace, Senator, Secretary of State successively went to her name. For her, still to surmount the first female POTUS place, the hardest ceiling to break, the tallest order to tame. But when she played fair, her opponents got the opposite case. Foreign clout's long arm sneaked in, domestic clown's long gown strutted out, sweeping full view were snickering coyotes, their fangs churning, who'd be here to heed my whimper and share my yearning? As her lifetime endeavor came not to entelechy, but to stall, how could her advocates stay away from wormwood and gall?