1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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