And frighten mermaids sipping at their tea.
For even here, where peace
And periwinkles dwell,
Those bursts of gas and steam
Jar shrill as booths in hell.
The Titans, when they cough, engender squalls;
Their energy is not consumed by age.
They’d like to stretch their arms and shake St. Paul’s,
But they’re entrapped as mice within a cage.
And none to pity these,