At five precisely out went La Marquise
His exaltation shocked both youth and crone
The understanding critic firstly sees
With cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
Rejecting ermine to become a knave
An icicle of frozen marrow pings
For burning bushes never fish forgave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
Shallots and sharks'fins face the smould'ring log
While homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
Poor reader smile before your lips go numb
Soliloquies predict great things old chum