1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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