At five precisely out went La Marquise
Licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
He bent right down and well what did he seize
One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
The North Wind Bites into his architrave
They both are right not unformed smatterings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
The genealogist with field and fess
And starve the sniveling baby like a dog
From cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
Bard I adore your endless monologue
Though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
The best of all things to an end must come