1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum