See the humble grote
Deep under shelves
Certain delves to barrel bottom
Coopernicus, welder of staves
You, grote, you see universes
As they've been astutely described
Love is your calling, the lust after words
Epilogues scribble across your thirst
Drink gallons, there's aging to spare
Grote, you clever hyena
Devouring lion kills
With your abstract pack
You're accurate to the theoretical letter
Cross-indexed, gloss-referenced
Otherunwise, it's a glib contrition
Welded to a sad intuition
Teacher grote, you didact
You redacted consciousness
As a matter of truth
Given to Latin and satin vermouth
Not drunk but always with tipple
Philosopher grote's waves barely ripple
Roman Ryan 