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If I should ever wax poetic
Please let me be apologetic;
For every verseman by mistake
A bit of poetry may make;
And sometimes it is really hard
Not to become a half-baked bard.

For stubbornly I dare to say
Pretentious poets of today
Are verseman ninety-five per cent;
And if  censoriously bent,
You score out verse with pencil deft
You'll find there's mighty little left.

Yes, you may even play this game
With laureates of classic fame,
For those you designate divine
Have printed many a prosy line . . .
What, then, you may demand of me
Do you consider Poetry?

Originality of phrase,
Imaginatively ablaze;
The word unique, the magic fire,
That haunt, illumine and inspire;
Not lyric lilt, nor rhyme precision,
Not though, not  melody. - just VISION.

So in most poems, to my mind,
Ninety per cent of verse you'll find;
Cull out the pure poetic strains
And mostly vulgar verse remains.
- Well, better verse of worthy weight
Than poems less than second-rate.