1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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