This is your automatically generated poem for today.
The Parthenon horse looks nervous on the frieze
any diner chooses escargots
he'd much to learn despite his four degrees
there's naught as dry as sacks of haricot.
Remember friends those isles where live your Friese
those greedy mice leave nothing for the crow
both are right not that vague congeries
the Greeks and Romans read and thought 'what though?'
Plato's Hellas surely wasn't sot
in his brain one tongue is all he's got
as Socrates dies looking just Silene.
Its famous sculptures founder on a rock
the Spanish language tickles the ear baroque
clear from the start the ending is foreseen.
