1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb