I present myself as prisoner 
all the while 
I present myself as lord

Sighing the crass song
"Dear Vanity, Your Uncertain Steps"
eyeing the Greek statuette
my straight borders, monoculture lawn

I have thought my garden a model
in good taste, now I cannot say
I have thought it 
a mazing absurd joke, but no.

O, Amazonia you are wild and infinite
I hear you rage from my shallow pool
and when at last fantastic rumours
reach my tremulous parasol

Of all your passions fully excited
and my tidal fashions rush to follow
as one chained to an ornamental sundial
You I contemplate far as sense allows