1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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