1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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