1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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