1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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