1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14the best of all things to an end must come
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