The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze
His exaltation shocked both youth and crone
Her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
Normal one aims to be and share the throne
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
With sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
When dried the terrapin can naught express
With gravity at gravity's great cog
And played their mountain croquet jungle chess
Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
The best of all things to an end must come