1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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