1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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