1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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