Classic Poem

No flint, no ashlar, here are seen,
No brick like that wherewith her Queen
Built Babylon's great wall;
It is of timber, planks, and lath,
This cooling room in Tucca's bath
That is not cool at all;
So closely all the timbers fit
That if he chose to sail in it
'Twould make a perfect boat.
The hot room's rich with pillars wrought
By Phrygian quarrymen or brought
From Afric lands remote,
Though Sparta sent her marbles rare,
Though rich Euboea's gems are there
Perfect in hue and form,
'Tis always chill that marble tomb;
O Tucca, use the cooling room
To make the hot one warm.