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 dusty shelf.
Parting is no sweet sorrow, for tomorrow
And tomorrow and tomorrow will come.
Our Bard of Stratford has quotes to borrow,
This midsummer madness must be undone.
And that thou teachest how to make one twain,
By praising him here who doth hence remain!

©Keith Murphy