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  There is a reason for these metered lines
  And for each one’s concluding in a rhyme;
  Though some begrudge such cumbersome confines,
  There’s magic in this ancient paradigm,

  Which proves, though strict, to be provocative
  In calling forth what never would be thought
  And finding out where occult memories live
  From which surprising images are wrought.

  This tum-te-tum casts a beguiling spell,
  Inducing with its beat a kind of trance
  That guides you toward unthought material
  Stoking and fueling your train of thought’s advance.

       That such constraints should lead to liberty
       Is paradoxical, a happy mystery.

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