1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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