Classic Poem

Noah's granddaughter
Sat on his knee;
Her questions like water
Gushed ceaselessly.

Her hair's gilded wool
Seems the sun's tent;
Her mouth, a grape golden-cool,
Shows through the rent.

Noah's replies
Are all one hears;
And the small ripples rise
Like listening ass-ears.

‘That young giraffe?
His proud elevation
Raises a laugh
To the height of quotation. . . .

The camel's face
Is like Mrs. Grundy's;
He makes that grimace
At working on Sundays.

The kangaroo, chaste,
Of Victorian complexion,
Wears at her waist
Each pledge of affection.

The trunk of the elephant
Is not a box,
The cock's gilded crown can't
Frighten the fox.’
…

The sea-gods talk Greek . . .
But they learn the word ‘why’;
Like leaves of the palm,
Their beards, gilded and dry,

Are spreading upon
The blue marble Pompeii
Whose temples are gone
(So the sea seems); Aglae

Asks ‘What for?’ . . . The waves' door
Begins to slam.
Like water the questions pour.
Noah said, ‘Damn!’