Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
The answer is they could be twins full-grown
Forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
And empty cages show life's bird has flown
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
When flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
A daring baron pockets precious Mings
Thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
A bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
But I can understand you Brogher Gog
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
The best of all things to an end must come