The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
His toga rumpled high above his knees
Which neither time nor tide can long postpone
They both are right not untamed mutterings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
In salads all chew grubs before they've wings
In purest cradels tha's how they behave
When dried the terrapin can naught express
With quill white-collared through his life will jog
Watching manure and compost coalesce
Southern baroque's seductive dialogue
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
A wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb