1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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