1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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