1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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