1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
← OPEN dataBase