1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone

5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum