1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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