1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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