1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone

5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14the best of all things to an end must come