1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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