His son,Who had at one time been an honest fellow, Did not care for the taste of lies upon his tongue.Could not lay lillies upon her bare legs, while her lips were painted so awesomely red.Omit all that may be called an ornament.Would rather lay in leaves than sheets.Decorate this naked jewel with no more than a crown of Rowenberry.Dont tell your mother dont sell your father short,Dont haggle the price of pepper, Down in the Venician port.We shall give praise anywhere,We shall kneel on the hardest of wood.Walk on the names of our friends cut in the coldest of stone,Marvel at the sculptured elephant,Fashioned from its stolen bone.If we are displeased by our surroundings,And astonished By the beauty of the world,We may wish all life upon a sacred fish on an alter of crushed ice.Its strong dead eye shall pray for us,We shall remember the thieves of our lives,And burn the last of the wood,And our biggest dreams shall fail to warm us on the coldest of nights. Tonight I must rustproof my home.