1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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