1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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