1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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