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
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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