1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14the best of all things to an end must come