Pleasure Dough?

In Xanadu did Jutta Khan
A pastry pleasure-dome decree :
Where Alf, the sacred baker, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to the halfbakery.

So half five miles of fertile ground
With categories girdled round :
And there were annotations bright,
Where blossomed much half-baked theory ;
And here was Sealy, ancient as the hills,
Shouting “Baked!” aloft a cynic’s eyrie

But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down that doughy icon athwart a flaky cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a baker’s moon was haunted
By a woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this bread in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty brainstorm momently was forced :
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail :
And 'mid these prancing dolts and flakes
It flung up momently the sacred cakes.
Five miles meandering with a mazy annotation
Through wit and pun the sacred baker ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ration
And 'mid this tumult jutta heard from far
Newbie voices prophesying war!

The shadow of the HB dome
Floated o’er the baker’s cousin
Where was contrived the adopted home
Of many a bold half-baker’s dozen

It was a miracle of rare device:
A sunny pastry-dome with caves of vice!
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw :
It was a blissmissinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of the halfbakery
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and HB song,
To such a deep delight 'twould win me,

That with music loud and long
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! Those caves of vice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
Their flashing wit and pedantic air!
Weave a circle round them thrice,
And close your eyes with holy bread,
For they on half baked dough hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.