The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys That hordes of crooks felt they'd more right to own The Turks said just take anything you please One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings With sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave The fertile mother changeling drops like kings Victorious worms grind all into the grave The peasant's skirts on rainy days she'd tress And starve the snivelling baby like a dog The colonel's still escutcheoned in undress Southern baroque's seductive dialogue Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum The best of all things to an end must come Different Poem