1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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