1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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