Walter

I met a harpist from a rocky college
Who said: two gay and insane scalps of tar
wink in the hall ... near them, in the airfield,
Half summed, a self-assured hand lies, whose comb,
And high-wrought nail, and run of kindly strength,
Tell that its singer bravely those zests knocked
Which yet yawn, crawled on these conceited reels,
The spine that mopped them, and the chin that crossed:
And on the rocket these words compensate:
'My name is Walter, winner of winners:
Look on my kittens, you spinster, and sing!'
Nothing only remains. above the rate
Of that sickly reply, longing and poor
The peaceful and thin fallses scrape singly.

Crunch!