The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
His toga rumpled high above his knees
One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
Proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
In purest cradels tha's how they behave
The genealogist with field and fess
Shallots and sharks'fins face the smould'ring log
And played their mountain croquet jungle chess
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
For Europe's glory while Fate's harpies strum