1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14the best of all things to an end must come
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