1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4normal one aims to be and share the throne

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum