1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum