When one with t'other straightaway agrees
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
The understanding critic firstly sees
'Ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
It's one of many horrid happenings
The North Wind Bites into his architrave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
The fasting fakir doesn't smell the less
A bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
Poor Yorick comes to bury not address
Bard I adore your endless monologue
Though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
The best of all things to an end must come