1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
← OPEN dataBase