1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14the best of all things to an end must come