William Sheepsheer hath undertaken a new play,
which will be performed by us from day to day.
Nowadays as we shelter, bumps on a Covid log,
Cousin Will presents his play’s prologue:
Two polarities, both alike in indignity,
in fierce America, where we destroy our dream,
From political grudge erupteth Covid enmity,
Where pandemic vitriol renders sanitized hands unclean.
From forth the Covided extremes of these two politicos
A host of vilifying fanatics whip up their rhetorical strife;
Thus do these locked-down, distanced foes
With their hostility destroy our national life.
The fearful spreading of this dread contagion
As the fierce infection of these factions’ rage,
Which, made more lethal by our polarized ragin’
Is now the two months’ traffic of our national stage.
And yet, if we with moderation could attend,
What the politicos do screw up—we shall strive to mend.
Our play will be acted by yon citizens in the land of the free;
It appears to be a tragedy, but needeth not to be.
To be or not to be—that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in our nation to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous politics,
Or to wear masks against a mist of Covid,
and by cooperating end it.
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