At five precisely out went La Marquise
His nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
The understanding critic firstly sees
One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
Old Galileo's Pisan offerings
The North Wind Bites into his architrave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
For burning bushes never fish forgave
The genealogist with field and fess
A piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
A wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb