At five precisely out went La Marquise
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
His toga rumpled high above his knees
'Ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
How it suprised us pale grey underlings
When flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
Victorious worms grind all into the grave
The fasting fakir doesn't smell the less
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
Socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum
The best of all things to an end must come