Alchemisland

People telling end up in Hell along with fell Lord Elgin

Like a brocken spectre on Helvellyn, long shadows his crime cast 

Broken or whole, without respect

Taken as toll, to a private collection

To that most predatory end of vile self election.

At life’s ending, Elgin journeyed in a southerly direction.

In lime and mortar those Adonis’ cast 

In the age of bronze, of surpassing class 

Stuffed into his bulging loot sack, bold as brass; and after,

Heard by passers what may have passed for laughing from the atrium.