1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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