They Oz you up, your Mandyias.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They give you vast and trunkless legs
A sunken shattered visage too.
But they were Ozzed up in their turn
By Mandyias upon the sand
Who half the time had wrinkled lips
And half in sneering cold command.
Oz hands on Mandyias to man.
Like mighty works atop a shelf
Look on them early as you can
Ye mighty and despair yourself.
