I met a poster from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of bean
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless beans,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
“My name is Ozymanbeanis, Bean of Beans:
Sniff on my toots, ye Mighty, and despair!”
No bean beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal bean, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.