1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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