1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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