1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14the best of all things to an end must come
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