The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
The answer is they could be twins full-grown
Forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
'Ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
O Parthenon you hold the charger's strings
With sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
An icicle of frozen marrow pings
That every verbal shock aims to deprave
Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
With quill white-collared through his life will jog
Watching manure and compost coalesce
Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
Do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
A wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb