1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
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