1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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