1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4normal one aims to be and share the throne

5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14the best of all things to an end must come