He bent right down to pick up his valise
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
The showman gargles fire and sword with ease
Which neither time nor tide can long postpone
O Parthenon you hold the charger's strings
The North Wind Bites into his architrave
A daring baron pockets precious Mings
Thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
When dried the terrapin can naught express
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
Bard I adore your endless monologue
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
Soliloquies predict great things old chum