1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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