1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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