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Arthur Symons - Chimera Caliban
Work rating: Low

An ignominious monster and uncouth 
Who crouches in a Satanic attitude, 
The naked parody of some vital truth 
Concealed from that huge howling multitude 
That whirls forever on the winds and storms 
And in the silence of the desert brood. 
This inchoate being the vast night deforms 
And he is covetous of men`s spilt blood; 
A creature fashioned of the Nile`s slime and mud 
That has no thought but to be there alive, 
Alive under no hawk`s nor night owl`s hood; 
He has forgotten all but how to strive 
In vain against the God`s hostility; 
A Caliban who has not the art to thrive 
On the mere nothing his feet are fast upon 
A monstrous stone once hewn in Babylon 
Half featureless and utterly insane, 
There where he crouches just held by his feet 
From falling headlong on the noiseless street; 
A thing without the atom of a brain 
To fathom his abominable nudity. 
Who made him? Some mad monster of a man 
Whose mind conceived this nightmare, Caliban.
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