1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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