1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14the best of all things to an end must come