Here's an aspect of meter that we never covered during any of the
past donnybrooks: its usefulness for marching. No army ever advanced
to free verse. So, earlier today, as I slogged through the day-old
snow in the improbable forest that borders my lodgings, I realized
that I was keeping cadence by humming, over and over, "I think that
I shall never see-ee-ee/ a pome beauteeful as a tree-ee-ee." Curse
you, Joyce Kilmer!
Mark
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