1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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