He bent right down to pick up his valise
Through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
His toga rumpled high above his knees
Which neither time nor tide can long postpone
Old Galileo's Pisan offerings
When flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
A daring baron pockets precious Mings
For burning bushes never fish forgave
The genealogist with field and fess
Or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
Socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum
For Europe's glory while Fate's harpies strum