They tell me new methods now govern the Muses, <br />The modes of expression have changed with the times; <br />That low is the rank of the poet who uses <br />The old-fashioned verse with intentional rhymes. <br />And quite out of date, too, is rhythmical metre; <br />The critics declare it an insult to art. <br />But oh! the sweet swing of it, oh! the clear ring of it, <br />Oh! the great pulse of it, right from the heart, <br />Art or no art. <br /> <br />I sat by the side of that old poet, Ocean, <br />And counted the billows that broke on the rocks; <br />The tide lilted in with a rhythmical motion; <br />The sea-gulls dipped downward in time-keeping flocks. <br />I watched while a giant wave gathered its forces, <br />And then on the gray granite precipice burst; <br />And I knew as I counted, while other waves mounted, <br />I knew the tenth billow would rhyme with the first. <br /> <br />Below in the village a church bell was chiming, <br />And back in the woodland a little bird sang; <br />And, doubt it who will, yet those two sounds were rhyming, <br />As out o'er the hill-tops they echoed and rang. <br /> <br />The Wind and the Trees fell to talking together; <br />And nothing they said was didactic or terse; <br />But everything spoken was told in unbroken <br />And a beautiful rhyming and rhythmical verse. <br /> <br />So rhythm I hail it, though critics assail it, <br />And hold melting rhymes as an insult to art, <br />For oh! the sweet swing of it, oh! the dear ring of it, <br />Oh! the strong pulse of it, right from the heart, <br />Art or no art.<br /><br />Ella Wheeler Wilcox<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/old-rhythm-and-rhyme/
