The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
His nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
The understanding critic firstly sees
'Ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
Rejecting ermine to become a knave
He's gone to London how the echo rings
Thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
While homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
Poor reader smile before your lips go numb
For Europe's glory while Fate's harpies strum