1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14the best of all things to an end must come
← OPEN dataBase