On the Spanish Steps there sprawls in original sun
Il Padre Eterno with his rusty coat,
His bright paternal pate and hoar-frost beard,
By the fountain modelled on a stranded boat.

It is the lunch break from the studio.
A holy-featured Virgin lies at ease
After a lengthy morning of pieta.
He takes great chunks out of a mighty cheese

And she enjoys a Pantheon-domed loaf.
Both watch amorphous water’s fine largesse
Turning to spouts and brilliant shooting drops
And sinking back to fertile formlessness.

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