1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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