1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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