1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14the best of all things to an end must come