1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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