Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Ode to a Donut, Opus #4 (opus latericium)

A thousand flavours from a maund she drew

Of sprinkle, powder, and of shaved chocolate,

Which one by one she in a vat threw,

Upon whose heated rim she was set;

Like usury applying wet to wet,

Or monarchs' hands, that lets not bounty fall

Where want cries 'some,' but where excess begs all.

Of folded menus she let many go,

Which she perused, sighed, tore, and gave the vat;

Cracked many a ring of chocolate and dough,

Bidding them find their sepulchres in fat;

Found yet more rings gladly shrouded in icing,

With slighted batter and affectedly

Enswathed, and sealed to curious secrecy.

(co-copted from the Shakespeare)

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