A Letter to a Live Poet

God! to see

Gaunt anapaests stand up out of the verse,

Combative accents, stress where no stress should be,

Spondee on spondee, iamb on choriamb,

The thrill of all the tribrachs in the world,

And all the vowels rising to the E!

To hear the blessed mutter of those verbs,

Conjunctions passionate toward each other's arms,

And epithets like amaranthine lovers

Stretching luxuriously to the stars,

All prouder pronouns than the dawn, and all

The thunder of the trumpets of the noun!