1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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