[With apologies to Mr. Thomas Grey ...]
Free verse has tolled the knell of passing rhyme.
Its lame and limp lines lumber leadenly.
The poet writing in this rhymeless time
Has left the world to darkness - and to me.
When that I read the strange prose offerings
To find what is the difference today
Between these lines and past time's profferings,
My mind is filled with wonder and dismay.
Where is the music, where the cadences
Which sang and charmed the listener's captured ear?
These are apparent only by their absences
In prose lines long and short I find now here.
Let me then say to each free versing person:
Drown deep your book, unread. So let it be.
Were I to write free verse, 'twould be a worse one,
So, leave the world to rhyming - and to me.
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