1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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