1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
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
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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