One on whose head the ostrich-feathers nodded
In Alexandrine courts—and chez Bassano;
In whose young ears, song’s angels disembodied.
Rang the last notes of Melbourne’s own soprano;
Whose lithe feet, Moykoff-shod, the grouse-moors plodded,
Or danced the new Machiché Brasiliano,
In times before, unchaperoned of skinny ma,
Suburbia’s daughters sought the darkling kinema:
To put the matter briefly—One of Them.
Bear witness, Muses Nine, how most unworthy