| Robert Graves (1895–1985). Fairies and Fusiliers. 1918. |
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| 46. Free Verse |
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| I NOW delight | |
| In spite | |
| Of the might | |
| And the right | |
| Of classic tradition, | 5 |
| In writing | |
| And reciting | |
| Straight ahead, | |
| Without let or omission, | |
| Just any little rhyme | 10 |
| In any little time | |
| That runs in my head; | |
| Because, I’ve said, | |
| My rhymes no longer shall stand arrayed | |
| Like Prussian soldiers on parade | 15 |
| That march, | |
| Stiff as starch, | |
| Foot to foot, | |
| Boot to boot, | |
| Blade to blade, | 20 |
| Button to button, | |
| Cheeks and chops and chins like mutton. | |
| No! No! | |
| My rhymes must go | |
| Turn ’ee, twist ’ee, | 25 |
| Twinkling, frosty, | |
| Will-o’-the-wisp-like, misty; | |
| Rhymes I will make | |
| Like Keats and Blake | |
| And Christina Rossetti, | 30 |
| With run and ripple and shake. | |
| How pretty | |
| To take | |
| A merry little rhyme | |
| In a jolly little time | 35 |
| And poke it, | |
| And choke it, | |
| Change it, arrange it, | |
| Straight-lace it, deface it, | |
| Pleat it with pleats, | 40 |
| Sheet it with sheets | |
| Of empty conceits, | |
| And chop and chew, | |
| And hack and hew, | |
| And weld it into a uniform stanza, | 45 |
| And evolve a neat, | |
| Complacent, complete, | |
| Academic extravaganza! | |
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