I now delight <br />In spite <br />Of the might <br />And the right <br />Of classic tradition, <br />In writing <br />And reciting <br />Straight ahead, <br />Without let or omission, <br />Just any little rhyme <br />In any little time <br />That runs in my head; <br />Because, I’ve said, <br />My rhymes no longer shall stand arrayed <br />Like Prussian soldiers on parade <br />That march, <br />Stiff as starch, <br />Foot to foot, <br />Boot to boot, <br />Blade to blade, <br />Button to button, <br />Cheeks and chops and chins like mutton. <br />No! No! <br />My rhymes must go <br />Turn ’ee, twist ’ee, <br />Twinkling, frosty, <br />Will-o’-the-wisp-like, misty; <br />Rhymes I will make <br />Like Keats and Blake <br />And Christina Rossetti, <br />With run and ripple and shake. <br />How pretty <br />To take <br />A merry little rhyme <br />In a jolly little time <br />And poke it, <br />And choke it, <br />Change it, arrange it, <br />Straight-lace it, deface it, <br />Pleat it with pleats, <br />Sheet it with sheets <br />Of empty conceits, <br />And chop and chew, <br />And hack and hew, <br />And weld it into a uniform stanza, <br />And evolve a neat, <br />Complacent, complete, <br />Academic extravaganza!<br /><br />Robert Graves<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/free-verse/
