1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
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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