1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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