Webster was much possessed by death
　　And saw the skull beneath the skin;
　　And breastless creatures under ground
　　Leaned backward with a lipless grin.
　　
　　Daffodil bulbs instead of balls
　　Stared from the sockets of the eyes!
　　He knew that thought clings round dead limbs
　　Tightening its lusts and luxuries.
　　
　　Donne, I suppose, was such another
　　Who found no substitute for sense;
　　To seize and clutch and penetrate,
　　Expert beyond experience,
　　
　　He knew the anguish of the marrow
　　The ague of the skeleton;
　　No contact possible to flesh
　　Allayed the fever of the bone.
　　.....
　　Grishkin is nice: her
　　Russian eye is underlined for emphasis;
　　Uncorseted, her friendly bust
　　Gives promise of pneumatic bliss.
　　
　　The couched Brazilian jaguar
　　Compels the scampering marmoset
　　With subtle effluence of cat;
　　Grishkin has a maisonette;
　　
　　The sleek Brazilian jaguar
　　Does not in its arboreal gloom
　　Distil so rank a feline smell
　　As Grishkin in a drawing-room.
　　
　　And even the Abstract Entities
　　Circumambulate her charm;
　　But our lot crawls between dry ribs
　　To keep our metaphysics warm.