He bent right down to pick up his valise
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
The understanding critic firstly sees
One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
It's one of many horrid happenings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
An icicle of frozen marrow pings
Thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
Platonic Greece was not so talentless
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
For Europe's glory while Fate's harpies strum