1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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