1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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