1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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