***

Unsuited to my purpose in the rhyming
Of martial odes or charming elegies.
In verses everything should be untimely,
No punctualityes.

I wish you were aware from what stray matter
Springs poetry to prosper without shame,
Like dandelions which the children scatter,
Or pigweed of the lowly name.

An angry shout, the molten tar's hot stingin,
A magic growth of mould upon a wall...
And straightaway the verse is gaily ringin
To gladden one and all