1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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