1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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