1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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