Shapes of Clay

When a fair bridge is builded o'er the gulf

Between two cities, some ambitious fool,

Hot for distinction, pleads for earliest leave

To push his clumsy feet upon the span,

That men in after years may single him,

Saying: "Behold the fool who first went o'er!"

So be it when, as now the promise is,

Next summer sees the edifice complete

Which some do name a crematorium,

Within the vantage of whose greater maw's

Quicker digestion we shall cheat the worm

And circumvent the handed mole who loves,

With tunnel, adit, drift and roomy stope,

To mine our mortal parts in all their dips

And spurs and angles. Let the fool stand forth

To link his name with this fair enterprise,

As first decarcassed by the flame. And if

With rival greedings for the fiery fame

They push in clamoring multitudes, or if

With unaccustomed modesty they all

Hold off, being something loth to qualify,

Let me select the fittest for the rite.

By heaven! I'll make so warrantable, wise

And excellent censure of their true deserts,

And such a searching canvass of their claims,

That none shall bait the ballot. I'll spread my choice

Upon the main and general of those

Who, moved of holy impulse, pulpit-born,

Protested 'twere a sacrilege to burn

God's gracious images, designed to rot,

And bellowed for the right of way for each

Distempered carrion through the water pipes.

With such a sturdy, boisterous exclaim

They did discharge themselves from their own throats

Against the splintered gates of audience

'Twere wholesomer to take them in at mouth

Than ear. These shall burn first: their ignible

And seasoned substances—trunks, legs and arms,

Blent indistinguishable in a mass,

Like winter-woven serpents in a pit—

None vantaged of his fellow-fools in point

Of precedence, and all alive—shall serve

As fueling to fervor the retort

For after cineration of true men.