Shall I compare Shakespeare to Ann Summers, dear?
Hamlet, adultery, but less desperate:
Rough hands do shake the Jack Rabbits of May,
Ann Summers' lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And oft' is the gold batteries dimm'd;
And every hair from hair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd:
But thy eternal Summer shall not fade
Nor lose vibration of that pair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wanderest in his shade,
When in eternal sighs to time thou growest:
A brief encounter in the National Library,
Bloom and Stephen cross paths unknowingly.
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