Some are the brothers of all humankind,And own them, whatsoever their estate;And some, for sorrow and self-scorn, are blindWith enmity for man's unguarded fate.For some there is a music all day longLike flutes in Paradise, they are so glad;And there is hell's eternal under-songOf curses and the cries of men gone mad.Some say the Scheme with love stands luminous,Some say 't were better back to chaos hurled;And so 't is what we are that makes for usThe measure and the meaning of the world.
For Barack and his supporters, there is music all day long for it is what we are: brothers (and sisters) of all humankind.
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