how you shower us your dowers
of history in miniature with its
bric-a-brac and rickrack
not that you need know it

how you reckon us your powers
of meaning and eking out in bits
what's what and written on your back
some words someone scarce a poet

put there so the queued next who glowers
shall read and thence recall his wits
loath to lose all knowledge of his lack
and why there should be any to bestow it