1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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