No More Learning

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I am the work of the husband1 of a mannish-mantled quean,2 of a twice-young mortal,3 not Empusa’s4 cinder-bedded scion,5 who was the killing6 of a Teucrian neatherd7 and of the childing of a bitch,8 but he leman9 of a golden woman; and he made me when the husband-boiler10 smote down the brazen-leggèd breeze11 wrought of the twice-wed mother-hurtled virgin-born12; and when the slaughterman13 of Theocritus14 and burner15 of the three-nighted16 gazed upon this wrought piece,17 a full dolorous shriek he shright, for a belly-creeping18 shedder of age did him despite with enshafted venom19; but when he was           in the wave-ywashen,20 Pan’s mother’s21 thievish twy-lived bedfellow22 came with the scion23 of a cannibal, and carried him into the thrice-sacked daughter24 of Teucer for the sake of Ilus-shivering25 arrow-heads.