! Tholedoth, treetrene! Zokrahsing, stone! Arty, reminiscen- sitive, at bandstand finale on grand carriero, dreaming largesse of lifesighs over early lived offs — ^all old Sators of the crackling is in his surcoat, sues us with souftwister. Apart we! Here are notes. There’s the nasturtium for ye and salmons chined and sturgeons tranched, sanced capons, lobsters barbed. Call halton eatwords! Mumm me moe mummers! What, no Ithalians.^ How, not one