(He speaks also of Asthmatic Bulldogs but they need a poem to themselves.)   Prurient tapirs graced our lawns, Many years ago. They leapt like lucky leprechauns, They flounced and bounced about our lawns, While furtive, phantom flugelhorns, Lamented, sweet and low. In steamy, dreamy, dewy dawns, They gambolled to and fro.   I shut my eyes, I see them still Cavorting up and down Through dandelion and daffodil Those tapirs dancing, dancing still On every dale and every hill, Through every shanty town, Sashaying with exquisite skill, As light as thistledown.   Memorious, magnificent Reflections of romance, Those pert…