At five precisely out went La Marquise
His exaltation shocked both youth and crone
Forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
Normal one aims to be and share the throne
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
They both are right not unformed smatterings
That every verbal shock aims to deprave
The fasting fakir doesn't smell the less
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
Socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
We'll suffocate before the epilogue
Though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum