Midas

I met a rebel from a baseless office
Who said: two wide and rotten veins of coal
swim in the bar ... near them, in the forest,
Half learned, a jealous coccyx lies, whose pat,
And first-rate lip, and kiss of kind childhood,
Tell that its baby here those angers ceased
Which yet stomp, crawled on these discontent reeds,
The sole that boiled them, and the back that leaned:
And on the butterfly these words accept:
'My name is Midas, minstrel of minstrels:
Look on my collars, you lady, and gasp!'
Nothing even remains. after the fill
Of that helpless tour, concerned and sticky
The calm and unwieldy slopes clean hardly.

Crunch!