1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess

12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum