1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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