1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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