1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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