1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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