Like Ogden I dwell on llamas or lamas.
Like Yeats I'm too too morose.
My rhymes are more like Thomas
And too little of the red red rose.
\Like Shakespeare methinks too much;
Like Dickinson I'm so so morbid
And, of course, like Dylan a total lush
And always much too torpid.
\So like Coleridge's albatross
An Thayer's Casey-at-the-bat
I'll have to hope my thoughts will cross
The grey matter just below your hat.