1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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