I now delight br In spite br Of the might br And the right br Of classic tradition, br In writing br And reciting br Straight ahead, br Without let or omission, br Just any little rhyme br In any little time br That runs in my head; br Because, I’ve said, br My rhymes no longer shall stand arrayed br Like Prussian soldiers on parade br That march, br Stiff as starch, br Foot to foot, br Boot to boot, br Blade to blade, br Button to button, br Cheeks and chops and chins like mutton. br No! No! br My rhymes must go br Turn ’ee, twist ’ee, br Twinkling, frosty, br Will-o’-the-wisp-like, misty; br Rhymes I will make br Like Keats and Blake br And Christina Rossetti, br With run and ripple and shake.