1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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