At five precisely out went La Marquise
Through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
The Turks said just take anything you please
'Ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
O Parthenon you hold the charger's strings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
They both are right not unformed smatterings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
Platonic Greece was not so talentless
With gravity at gravity's great cog
Poor Yorick comes to bury not address
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
Soliloquies predict great things old chum