1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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