Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
Through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
His toga rumpled high above his knees
One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
They both are right not untamed mutterings
When flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
In salads all chew grubs before they've wings
In purest cradels tha's how they behave
Platonic Greece was not so talentless
Shallots and sharks'fins face the smould'ring log
Socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
Soliloquies predict great things old chum