Why verse should seek its liberty from beat,
Those meters we’ve for centuries enjoyed,
Then long, as well, from rhyming to retreat
As if by such sonorities we’re cloyed
I cannot comprehend, for what is left
Is tuneless and might just as well be prose
When of all rhyme and meter it’s bereft,
Devices to keep readers from a doze.
You know with formal verse you’re in a game
Perhaps like tennis with its lines and net
Where masters over centuries won acclaim
Impressing minds with verse they’ll not forget.
Why not, instead, enjoy the paradox
Of sonic pleasures that bound verse unlocks?