The incommensurate odds and ends arrange
A riotous paisely table by my lounge
And are the most of grace that I can show
To you, critical caller at my infare,
Stiff in my ladder-back, rush-bottom chair.
Those niceties, untabulated bits
One browses out, happens on, or inherits,
Are there in their humorous contiguity—
Sweet alabaster birds, three monkeys in brass,
A repoussé goblet, a gavel cut of glass.
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