Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means, TIme held me green and dying Though I sang in my chains like the sea.

And shut the gates of mercy on mankind.

The very contradictions in my life are in some ways signs of God's mercy to me.

Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, / And shut the gates of mercy on mankind.

Go on thinking that you don't need to be read and you'll find that it may become quite true: no one will feel the need tom read it because it is written for yourself alone; and the public won't feel any impulse to gate crash such a private party.

Washington isn't a city, it's an abstraction.