Dance the elastic Dactylics in musical cadences on;
Now their voluminous coil intertangling like huge anacondas,
Roll overwhelmingly onward the sesquipedalian words.
—Browning.
(The above should be rendered in not less than eighteen seconds.)
You couldn’t pack a Broadwood half a mile—
You mustn’t leave a fiddle in the damp—
You couldn’t raft an organ up the Nile,
And play it in an Equatorial swamp.