1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
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