Brexit Sonnet No.27
‘For Article 50’
Our Will; Methinks he would’st protesteth much!
Brexit marks our discontented winter.
By the pricking of our thumbs, We are such
Stuff as dreams are made of, soon to splinter?
But our eternal summer shall not fade,
Vaulting ambition, which o’erleaps itself,
Is no spur suited for deal to be made.
Fight, not to be on history’s...
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