1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
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