Page:The man against the sky; a book of poems.djvu/60



You are a friend then, as I make it out, Of our man Shakespeare, who alone of us Will put an ass's head in Fairyland As he would add a shilling to more shillings, All most harmonious,—and out of his Miraculous inviolable increase Fills Ilion, Rome, or any town you like Of olden time with timeless Englishmen; And I must wonder what you think of him— All you down there where your small Avon flows By Stratford, and where you're an Alderman.