1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
← OPEN dataBase