1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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