I begin my hour with reading,
Thinking deeply as I read,
Over what the author teaches
And his theme;
Till my thoughts o'erflow my vision
And I grasp my pen with speed,
To assay the truth in prose
As it does seem.
Reading on and thinking deeply,
Half unwittingly I scrawl
Thoughts... additions... oppositions...
Till my prose,
Moving slowly and in rhythm,
Is no longer prose at all;
But unconsciously in blank verse
Freely flows.
Then the rhythm moves more freely,
Pulsing measures chance to chime,
Themes more beautiful and brighter thoughts
Appear.
And I leave my good philosophy
And lilt along on rhyme,
Thru the sunshine, while my muses
Dally near.
