“I met a traveller from an antique land
Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert.
Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
Thus spoke Percy Bysshe Shelley in Ozymandius, recounting and foretelling the rise and fall of mighty nations. While I do think there’s still hope, after yesterday’s elections I’d say we’re well and truly on the way out.
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