The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze
His nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
Forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
And empty cages show life's bird has flown
O Parthenon you hold the charger's strings
Rejecting ermine to become a knave
They both are right not unformed smatterings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
From cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum