A former Poet Laureate once said
To me that formal poetry is dead
And that I should take off my training wheels
And make free verse, the kind that now appeals.
I didn’t think to say what then I should:
“So how are we to know it’s any good?
Without a row of hurdles to o’er leap,
A hum-drum verse will put us all to sleep,
And when you hear some free verse read, who knows
That what you’re listening to is not mere prose?”
I know my attitude’s behind the times,
And yet I’ll not give up on metered rhymes,
And those with ears to hear will still agree
That magic lives in metric poetry.