1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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