Gentleman-rankers Out On The Spree,

'e's All'ot Sand An' Ginger When Alive, An''e's Generally Shammin' When'e's Dead.

Politics Are Not My Concern.... They Impressed Me As A Dog's Life Without A Dog's Decencies.

When Earth's Last Picture Is Painted And The Tubes Are Twisted And Dried, When The Oldest Colours Have Faded, And The Youngest Critic Has Died, We Shall Rest, And, Faith, We Shall Need It Lie Down For An Aeon Or Two, Till The Master Of All Good Workmen Shall Put Us To Work Anew!

The White Moth To The Closing Vine, The Bee To The Open Clover, And The Gypsy Blood To The Gypsy Blood Ever The Wide World Over.

These Are The Four That Are Never Content: That Have Never Been Filled Since The Dew Began- Jacala's Mouth, And The Glut Of The Kite, And The Hands Of The Ape, And The Eyes Of Man.