1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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