Why poetry should not be free
From rhyme and meter’s plain to see
And plainer still to hear, because
It’s not just what it says, but does.
Such verses are a kind of meme
Designed to haunt you like a dream,
Built like a burr and meant to stick
Inside your brain, a memory trick.
Thus may the poet hope to live
By sliding through Time’s winnowing sieve,
For only then is poetry
A passport to posterity.
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