1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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