1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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