When one with t'other straightaway agrees
The bull's horns ought to dry it like a bone
Her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
He's gone to London how the echo rings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
And starve the sniveling baby like a dog
Watching manure and compost coalesce
Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
Though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
For Europe's glory while Fate's harpies strum