Classic Poem

Are you young Master One-Way? Are you he!
Are you that sad identical young she,
Who is all onewaywardness, who to be salt
On Sodomitic cliffs may yet be called,
Who knows? but if that's the case I'll bet you're salted
For never looking back — from very goaheadness halted. —
Are you Miss Time-girl? — Master Clock I think!
" Habe die Ehre!" How we One-ways stink
Of progress! I could tell you by your smell!
The effluvium of progress suits you well
Allow me to say sir! (to the perfume born
Of an " expanding universe", a bursting corn —
An ever-budding, bigger and better, system —
Where no one's ever missed a cosmic bus — or missed 'em
Only because strap-hangers blocked the portals
To get more air, the antisocial mortals —
Yet bigger and better buses every minute
Roar forth. Before you know it you are in it!
One hefty public carriage packed to the brim
With One-ways, Kruschensalted to get slim)
Stagnation has its must. But it's most odd
That stuffy odour all One-ways have got!
One would hardly have thought that progress such as ours
Would have made us smell like bloody hot-house flowers!