The Common Wealth

Nothing hones like a sonnet;
Heaven's paragraph of perfection
With it's golden stamp upon it
Invincible to abjection!
But there are those who would deride
This magnificent gift of old.
Their fluid wit seems to have dried
And been replaced by Tory mold.
That mold is the stoutest poison
To inculcate the common mind,
Against the universal foison
Universally perceived as kind,
Except, that the citizens will know it
When they've been lied to by a poet!