The roughness of the wool was weirdly pleasant.

In the quivering of a leaf—in the hue of a blade of grass—in the shape of a trefoil—in the humming of a bee—in the gleaming of a dew-drop—in the breathing of the wind—in the faint odors that came from the forest—there came a whole universe of suggestion—a gay and motley train of rhapsodical and immethodical thought.

The Gunners boss has been heavily criticised for his side's poor start to the Premier League season but this result helps lift the pressure.

And these outstrippings and outmodings, they assert, were necessary and desirable, considering the internal limitations of the lyric form.