1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum