1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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