1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
← OPEN dataBase