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On the Vanity of Earthly Greatness
The tusks that clashed in mighty brawls
Of mastodons, are billiard balls.

The sword of Charlemagne the Just
Is ferric oxide, known as rust.

The grizzly bear whose potent hug
Was feared by all, is now a rug.

Great Caesar's bust is on the shelf,
And I don't feel so well myself.
Arthur Guiterman (1871–1943)

 
What the Moon Saw
Two statesmen met by moonlight.
Their ease was partly feigned.
They glanced about the prairie.
Their faces were constrained.
In various ways aforetime
They had misled the state,
Yet did it so politely
Their henchmen thought them great.
They sat beneath a hedge and spake
No word, but had a smoke.
A satchel passed from hand to hand,
Next day, the deadlock broke.
Vachel Lindsay (1879–1931)

Soup
I saw a famous man eating soup.
I say he was lifting a fat broth
Into his mouth with a spoon.
His name was in the newspapers that day
Spelled out in tall black headlines
And thousands of people were talking about him.

    When I saw him,
He sat bending his head over a plate
Putting soup in his mouth with a spoon.
Carl Sandburg (1878–1967)

The Stone Gentleman
Let us move the stone gentleman to the toadstool wood:
Too long has he disapproved in our market-place.
Within the manifold stone creases of his frock-coat
          Let the woodlouse harbour and thrive.

Let the hamadryads wreath him with bryonoy,
The scrolled fern-fronds greenly fantasticate,
And sappy, etiolations cluster damply
          About the paternal knee.

Them the abrupt, blank eyes will not offend,
The civic brow and raised, suppressive hand
Unchallenged and without affront shall manage
          The republic of tall spiders.
James Reeves (1909–1978)