1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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