1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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