Rancid, rotting, raving, eyeless, soulless in the night
Creeping, crawling, crazing, crashing, midnight calls the flight
Untold as yet, unknown to me, unfelt for warmth inside
But now it’s running, rolling closer, gliding as a tide
Imitation Of Horace
can his gen'rous Soul confine
To a small Room, few Dishes, and some Wine,
The Art Of Cookery
Ingenious L-- were a Picture drawn
With Cynthia's Face, but with a Neck like Brawn;
Not, how did he die, but how did he live?
Not, what did he gain, but what did he give?
These are the units to measure the worth
Of a man as a man, regardless of birth.
What shadows fly upon the night
And whisper wordless fear
They strike all peoples hearts with fright
And kill our ones so dear