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Style and flattery will get you the life
you deserve: one table setting after another,
beer and cards in the park at Raneleigh,
some lame poet enthusing over
the pale moon under the pricking stars
while Lord Petersham glimpses himself
in the sheen of his boots and smiles
as he pulls out the snuffbox for this very day.
At least the unnamed gentleman who
each evening squires a different doll
from his own bisque collection
knows that that's all he wants.
Does all that powder make them...