Classic Poem

That never! Upon his juju I do spit —
I have torn to shreds his philosophic kit!
I've knocked the shit out of his bogus champs.
I've put out all his wreckers' lying lamps.
Yet in a sense the Time-king's fellow — a sense
There is in which I might be that: My pen's
His trusty instrument, if you by him
Should mean that imitation-timeless limb
Of Satan — then I might consent to join
His masquerade. If the Battle of the Boyne,
Chemin des Dames, Austerlitz, Culloden,
Were all agreed to be as good as one:
And if I were quite certain I could go
Backwards and forwards freely, express or slow,
Between New York, and Athens-when-Plato-lived —
In exchange for that I'd let the good ship drift
A bit to order. But that's not what's meant —
That hardly follows from the argument.
Though such a stout supporter of One-ways
I'd be none too sorry if in changing place
I could change times a little! — say to France
Meant visit Montaigne : not to countenance
Is such a pleasant tripping for those who frown
On any jaunt outside your native town —
" See your own Time first!" such conduct would call down —
From those who do, on this pretext or that,
The compass box, as restless as a rat.