Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
Since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
Forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
Which neither time nor tide can long postpone
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
When flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
Th'outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
The nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
The fasting fakir doesn't smell the less
Shallots and sharks'fins face the smould'ring log
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
Southern baroque's seductive dialogue
On fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum