1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
← OPEN dataBase