He bent right down to pick up his valise
His exaltation shocked both youth and crone
The understanding critic firstly sees
One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
Old Galileo's Pisan offerings
Whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
Platonic Greece was not so talentless
With quill white-collared through his life will jog
To prove mamma an adult with a tress
We'll suffocate before the epilogue
Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum