1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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