1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone

5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum