Lucretius

Lucretius, starting from the exquisite

Languor of venery, looked round and said,

"Was that an earthquake tremor, or was it

Only a fickle atom in my head?"

Such answer as Lucretius might have made

Himself, and had in thought begun to make,

Was not forthcoming; idle language strayed

Beyond his ears and made him feel opaque.

Leaving the woman's gateway, he bestowed

A noncommittal look upon a cat,

Wondered if rain would penetrate the road

And just how much, picked up a pebble, spat,

Squinted his eyes to blur a nearby light,

Felt rather lonely, and went 'home to write.