Classic Poem

I crossed to Paris t'other day,
Threaded Mount Cenis,
Passed Turin, Milan. No delay!
And so to Venice.

( " " Cenis" and " Venice" rhyme? Sublime! "
I see you frowning.
Zooks, man, let Shelley pick his rhyme,
I'm Robert Browning!)

My object there? St. Mark's, you guess,
The Doges' Palace.
Just so. " I went by Dover? " Yes,
And also Calais.

(What's that you say? The metre's rough?
Wincing, old fat-head?
You're out, Sir. Metre's well enough.
All's right on that head!)

I bought a paper, read, rubbed eyes,
Brain-pan felt reelly,
What was it moved me? You surmise:
The Campanile.

The famous Campanile down,
Tumbled in ruin,
Anger and tears through all the town,
So the news flew in.

Man shouts, brat squeals, dame squeaks, cur barks,
In the Piazza
Low lies the bell-tower of St. Mark's,
Fallen quite flat, Sir!

Oh, what a theme for Epic Muse!
For tragic buskin!
— I wonder who will break the news
To Ruskin?