Of the word Song used in the title of a poem, this is often or even mostly evocative: to make the reader imagine the poem as somehow lyrical. But the evocation changes over time, so a poem labelled Song now begins a parodic dialogue not with vocal music but with all the vaguely lyrical poems that have been labelled "Song" in the past. That is how I interpret it in a modern text like Lisa Samuels - it's recalling , say, Christina Rossetti or John Clare rather than Schubert or Smokey Robinson.
I've missed most of the topic, but I think I'm agreeing with Jamie and Judy in thinking that the meter of spoken poetry has long developed its own effects and artistry, which can't be put back into music.
It's rare for musical and poetic meters to happily coincide, even in folk poems, though I seem to remember that e.g. Butterworth's settings of Housman are very close indeed; but possibly that says something about the nice though limited kind of poem that Housman writes. Usually the first thing a composer does is break with the original meter, as Britten did with Shakespeare or (example fresh in my mind from Radio 3) Coleridge-Taylor with Longfellow. In the latter case we can say that Longfellow's meter was too monotonous for music. That's not the case with Britten and Shakespeare at all, e.g. the end of Britten's Nocturne - The sonnet (43) beginning "When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see." Here, it's more a case of music being incapable of conveying the subtleties of the original meter directly; the only thing was to break up the flow and start again on a different basis.
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