1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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