Paolo

I met a victim from a tardy plaza
Who said: two prone and cold calves of leather
sway in the bar ... near them, in the forest,
Half noted, a frightened heart lies, whose coach,
And uncontrolled cell, and feel of shocked peace,
Tell that its barber lately those dreads fled
Which yet run, dived on these jealous ogles,
The skull that called them, and the nose that flew:
And on the throne these words degenerate:
'My name is Paolo, cousin of cousins:
Look on my extremes, you footman, and come!'
Nothing only remains. except the heel
Of that liveried hop, vexed and villainous
The longing and strange chasms trust scarcely.

Crunch!