I think that I shall never see
A poem weird as a world-tree
A tree to brighten every meal With fragrant boughs of stainless steel
A tree that may in winter grace
A skating rink around its base
A tree whose stark and spiked busem
Will scare the birdies, (and confusem),
That needs not rain, nor sun to rise,
That needs but love, and Simoniz
Of all the thoughts of Mr. Gropius
This cosmic hatrack is the dopius. T. A. Lehrer 4G
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John H. Finley: The Harvard Man