I met a Raveller from an antique land
Who said: ‘Two vast and trunkless* legs of bronze
Stand in the town square. Above them, on the man,
Half shrunk, a soggy sweater clings, whose size,
And gathered hip, and fitted wrist band
Tell that its knitter well those contours read.
Which yet survive, draped about these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them while the town was in bed.
And on its breast these intarsia’d words appear –
“My name is Knittymandias, king of kings:
Look on these crafty works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal turtleneck, littered everywhere
The scattered strands of yarn stretch far away.’
*Not wearing pants A shameless rip-off of Ozymandias, by Percy Bysshe Shelley