1. Perfection, of a kind, was what he was after,
    And the poetry he invented was easy to understand; 
    He knew human folly like the back of his hand,
    And was greatly interested in armies and fleets;
    When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter,
    And when he cried the little children died in the streets.

    — W.H. Auden, “Epitaph on a Tyrant”