The acid tongue with gourmet's expertise
The answer is they could be twins full-grown
He bent right down and well what did he seize
And empty cages show life's bird has flown
O Parthenon you hold the charger's strings
When flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
An icicle of frozen marrow pings
For burning bushes never fish forgave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
With quill white-collared through his life will jog
The colonel's still escutcheoned in undress
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
Soliloquies predict great things old chum