1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum