1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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