1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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