1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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