The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze That hordes of crooks felt they'd more right to own Replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease The thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave He's gone to London how the echo rings For burning bushes never fish forgave When dried the terrapin can naught express With gravity at gravity's great cog And played their mountain croquet jungle chess Bard I adore your endless monologue Poor reader smile before your lips go numb The best of all things to an end must come