Classic Poem

The clay our mothers feed us with is taken
To be the tie and case of the bright spirit,
It is washed and dressed and hindered and does inherit
A thousand vermin cares are of all Time's making.
The clay does enter, does possess us and we have then
A thousand clayey consequences, known
By the hurt and hinders of action, and the left undone
Adventurous things which salt the lives of men.
That clay has cased the fibre and tied the limb
Nor yet that entail shall we put away
Till the clay wrap us affectionately in clay
And the adhesive marl film the bright eyeglance dim.