Stanza 12 is notable for its use of the topos of the exhausted poet whose skills and techniques are fading fast and which cannot do justice to either his beloved or his love for her. This is ironic after the elaborate adynatons.

My mother gave me maybe 150 to 200 letters, […] all rubber banded together month by month and in dates.

No longer would Britons routinely blame the national government when things went wrong. Instead they would demand action from a new clutch of elected mayors, police commissioners and the like.

His heart sank at the vision on the veranda: Syed Omar, in newspaper shirt, making a spectacular entrance, crooning throatily.