1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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