1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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