Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
The answer is they could be twins full-grown
His toga rumpled high above his knees
One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
A daring baron pockets precious Mings
Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
With gravity at gravity's great cog
To prove mamma an adult with a tress
Bard I adore your endless monologue
On fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
A wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb