I met a traveller from the Granite State
Who said: "Two vast and pant-suited legs of stone
Stand in the snow. Near them, on the snow,
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,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
'My name is Hillamandias, candidate of candidates:
Look on my Superdelegates, ye Unicorn-Humpers, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level snowfields stretch far away."
(My sincere apologies to Percy Bysshe Shelley. You really don't deserve this.)