1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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