Mud, sedimentary, coffee-colour,
And here a wedge, a sharp, keen, thrustful triangularity,
And squares that writhe in painful green,
Calling, clamouring—O venerable shade of Euclid.
Back in the ages, dusty, maculated,
Across the slate-hued fogs of time,
Behold them!—oblongs of sliding water
And cubed banks,
Bridges and barges, blatantly, wonderfully, inconceivably angular,
Calling, clamouring—canal, canal, canal!