1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
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