Read now for me the real rhythm, friend,
Hope madly that it hides a precious pearl.
Your ragged lines conceal depth, perhaps;
My meter yet abides and sets its sway.
I cannot try to feel what has no beat,
Nor spurn assured guides, enrapt with form;
Go, squander out your spiel in your haze.
Against chaotic tides, how can I strive?
 
Why should I thus relent when I command?
I heed a sterner dream within my soul.
No one can sing what's meant, when all's a wreck,
Nor parse your scattered theme from storm-tossed words...
Enough. Curse, plebe or veteran, repent;
Recant [i]vers libre;[/i] show your might of mind.