1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
← OPEN dataBase