One of 100 Thousand Billion Poems
by Raymond Queneau

From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
Since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
Forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
And empty cages show lif'e bird has flown
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
The fertile mother changeling drops like kings
The nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
Or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
On wheels the tourist follows his hostess
Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
Soliloquies predict great things old chum