“Come, move on,—it’s our turn! They have finished with you.”
—F’s for the Future for which Cubies hanker.
G is for Gertrude Stein’s limpid lucidity,
(Eloquent scribe of the Futurist soul.)
Cubies devour each word with avidity:
“Alone words lack sense,” they affirm with placidity,
“But how wise we’ll be when we’ve swallowed the whole!”