'Tis the Head of endless breath,。，
As one by one of the doleful bands。，Love burns as long as the lucifer match,
Across that hazy waste.。，Princes seven, enchaining hands,
Found us coming to their call:。，A spectacled necromancer:
Fresh from the skies!。，Appearances make the best half of life.
The moon mounts up, the night is late:。，With a donkey for friend, you must have a wife:
。，Glory to Britain!
He can't enjoy! all but cash he hates.。，
Says I, I'll tramp it home, and see the grain:。，
To see him squat like little chaps at school,。，Parson and Doctor!--don't they love rarely,
Over the hills and away.。，Within a Temple of the Toes,
Only two travellers moved and met。，
Glory to Britain!。，Like question and answer: you're both content.
And the nightingale sings only to its mate.。，Hand up the chirper! ripe ale winks in it;
。，They are old friends of my halts, and seem,
，Long shall heads in Britain plan。，His needle-muzzle still works out and in.