1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14the best of all things to an end must come
← OPEN dataBase