Under the slanting light of the yellow sun of October,
A “gang of Dagos” were working close by the side of the car track.
Pausing a moment to catch a note of their liquid Italian,
Faintly I heard an echo of Rome’s imperial accents,
Broken-down forms of Latin words...
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The Monument outlasting bronze But we who work with smaller skill, |
A Song of Derivations I am like the blossom of an hour. |
Behold the mansion reared by dædal Jack. See the malt, stored in many a plethoric sack, Mark how the rat’s felonious fangs invade Anon, with velvet foot and Tarquin... |
He killed the noble Mudjokivis. |
Rebellion is my theme all day; |