IV: Cedilla.

12. The ancestral hall is bare & [monu-]mental. No portraits hang & glare onto the floors. Picture shepherds, eating curd and lentil, Complacent back to Adam, bootless boors. No vestige of their life has touched his own In any form, if any were deserved By one who judges them in ignorance. No halberd, crest, or house of wood or stone Has passed unscathed through years of change and chance; Anxiety descended, best-preserved. 13. "Can I recall my birth? I resqueeze My eyes shut and think that I am bent Once more, legs folded, head on knees, Thoughtful, vegetative, in inclement Tides of sour fluid, back where few go Twice, to spin in vernix & lanugo." 14. K.Y.! Know Yourself—a jellied motto, In Greek he'd say it, mainly piqued and blotto; But as a saw, it screened more than it sliced— The language-trappings doggedly sufficed To tongue-trip more than explicate his woes. , my boy, it is your pose: You wear it like a snot slung from your nose.