1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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