1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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