1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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