The band played Idomeneo:
A child’s felicity
Held Stendhal, sitting with the Empress
Eugenie on his fat knee.
Clerk Maxwell’s demon was possessed;
He lay for half his days
And never moved a single molecule.
Mill, haunted by the silent face
Of Bentham-it was made of wax,
Read Wordsworth, and at last could weep.
I sought for love, and found it in girls’ gloves:
There’s none outside, you know. “That bird’s dead, father,”
Said Darwin’s son. Dejectedly
The Father broke his spear, looked deep
Into the Cause of things: but it was only
A hippopotamus asleep.
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