Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze When masons clutch the breath we hold on loan The Turks said just take anything you please Normal one aims to be and share the throne To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave He's gone to London how the echo rings To break a rule Britannia's might might waive It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless One tongue will do to keep the verse agog While homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes But I can understand you Brother Gog Poor reader smile before your lips go numb For Europe's glory while Fate's harpies strum Different Poem