1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14the best of all things to an end must come
← OPEN dataBase