1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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