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Toilet Seats

 While I am emulating Keats
My brother fabrics toilet seats,
The which, they say, are works of art,
Aesthetic features of the mart;
So exquisitely are they made
With plastic of a pastel shade,
Of topaz, ivory or rose,
Inviting to serene repose.
Rajahs I'm told have seats of gold,-- (They must, I fear, be very cold).
But Tom's have thermostatic heat, With sympathy your grace to greet.
Like silver they are neon lit, Making a halo as you sit: Then lo! they play with dulset tone A melody by Mendelssohn.
Oh were I lyrical as Yeats I would not sing of toilet seats, But rather serenade a star,-- Yet I must take things as they are.
For even kings must coyly own Them as essential as a throne: So as I tug the Muse's teats I envy Tom his toilet seats.

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