1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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