1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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