One of my marionettes is dead + 

Though not yet tired of the game⁠— + 

But weak in body as in head, + 

(A jumping-jack has such a frame). + 

But this deceasèd marionette + 

I rather liked: a common face, + 

(The kind of face that we forget) + 

Pinched in a comic, dull grimace; + 

Half bullying, half imploring air, + 

Mouth twisted to the latest tune; + 

His who-the-devil-are-you stare; + 

Translated, maybe, to the moon. + 

With Limbo’s other useless things + 

Haranguing spectres, set him there; + 

“The snappiest fashion since last spring’s, + 

“The newest style, on Earth, I swear. + 

“Why don’t you people get some class? + 

(Feebly contemptuous of nose), + 

“Your damned thin moonlight, worse than gas⁠— + 

“Now in New York”⁠—and so it goes. + 

Logic a marionette’s, all wrong + 

Of premises; yet in some star + 

A hero!⁠—Where would he belong? + 

But, even at that, what mask bizarre! + 