How often have I started out <br />With no thought in my noodle, <br />And wandered here and there about, <br />Where fancy bade me toddle; <br />Till feeling faunlike in my glee <br />I've voiced some gay distiches, <br />Returning joyfully to tea, <br />A poem in my britches. <br /> <br />A-squatting on a thymy slope <br />With vast of sky about me, <br />I've scribbled on an envelope <br />The rhymes the hills would shout me; <br />The couplets that the trees would call, <br />The lays the breezes proffered . . . <br />Oh no, I didn't think at all - <br />I took what Nature offered. <br /> <br />For that's the way you ought to write - <br />Without a trace of trouble; <br />Be super-charged with high delight <br />And let the words out-bubble; <br />Be voice of vale and wood and stream <br />Without design or proem: <br />Then rouse from out a golden dream <br />To find you've made a poem. <br /> <br />So I'll go forth with mind a blank, <br />And sea and sky will spell me; <br />And lolling on a thymy bank <br />I'll take down what they tell me; <br />As Mother Nature speaks to me <br />Her words I'll gaily docket, <br />So I'll come singing home to tea <br />A poem in my pocket.<br /><br />Robert William Service<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/inspiration-11/
