OXONIAN NOON
by James L.S. Carter
From every quad to every quad, from quads
Cloistered in thoughts, like gardens' summer-times,
Drift to the Isis the long-lasting chimes
Of bells across the green where stillness lauds
The bells, seeming to rob the noise of Gods
Who would be summoned by a passion's crimes
Such as make way into bard's sorry rhymes
Suffered thro' centuries at Honour Mods.
But Lares ands Penates, Dryads, Sylphs
And Bulgars lately escaped the continent
Are here in plenty by each battlement
Whose gargoyles'grimaces cleansed of all filths
And grimes but the original can't peep
Through crenels where secret courtyards sleep.
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