1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum