A geometrically mean society?

Divided they subtract, and add their dangling eyes,
Quibble their modes, and cool their fleas and lies
Or else  beget the furnace of the fight,
Forget their means — forget their happy rites
See with deviant arms their wit —  additional crew,
The fire is deviating and nobody stings
For souls, and therefore no souls, Betty blings
A fly is in the silk-spot — must he be a spy
For a geometrically mean society?
No, no; there Master Shirter takes his  error mean
Inserts it, dips the angle, standardised bassoon
The little oboe mute  with pupils dark,
Across the seaboard draws a long set spark.
Arise! take the  statistics from the jungles,
There’s a large  solid berry in each  bangle
Abide with sleet, I must now stray  to sow
To No. 7, lost  round the circuit play
‘Aghast, my friend! your stats  fit  very well;
Blair,  where does your  failure live?’
‘I may not sell.
O pardon me — I  fancy him now and then.
Why index sailors lives? I say, Amen
I cannot  stimulate, let me no more  deceive–
He lives in Epping ,a comedian  with thunderous  sagging knees