Glances

Shouldn’t we readily agree, Not to it like a decree, Feeling really very free, Unlike the under-lock-and-key, That glances are for lent newspapers, That shouldn’t in the borrowers hands last? And to a reader, the foremost of his helpers, Subduing the passages fast? Men at the fascinating linger a glance, But at The Suspicious glances steal, Like detectives do on any sneaking chance, With the demand for them damned real, Every fired momentary glance, Still a penetrative lance: The would-have-been-good-enough, For Prophet Elijah’s finishing off, By the Baal Worshippers in a war dance, And about him long begun to prance. Normal glance: an attention in The Military, Let alone The Stolen of the Gloomily Solitary, With a frightful interest in Suicide, But also appraising the merits of Genocide. Hatch though glances do the poorest in detail, Most of their reports rather a retail, The looker furnishing scant contentment, His eyes giving a fresh employment: The longer look of curiosity that wasted the cat, And demeanor of one who’d soon smell some rat.