From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
Licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
The showman gargles fire and sword with ease
One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
Rejecting ermine to become a knave
Proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
In purest cradels tha's how they behave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
And lessors' dates have all too short a sum