1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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