1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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