Paper clips are not made of plain paper,
Hairpins not thin and woven spun fine as hair;
Lampshades themselves no light sport, but glow taper,
Horseshoe brings luck but doesn’t run like mare.
Bookends in the end yield no twist or surprise,
No happy unions, not a single mystery solved,
No tragic conclusion, no novel surmise,
No character doomed, none whatsoever absolved.
Association here is but a link, quite weak in range
That one to the other connects in manner most obtuse.
In no way is there an osmosis, interchange,
At best one serves, one is of some vague use.
Rely not then upon kinsfolk kindness, on merit strive,
Till at your destination alone you arrive.
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