SF (June 17 1942 / Troy New York)

Little Broken Lines Do Not A World Make

LITTLE BROKEN LINES DO NOT A WORLD MAKE

Little broken lines do not a world make-
A poem without a music of its own
Is not much of a poem-
Once I had a rhythm I could hear;
I’ve lost it.
Bare lines appear,
They have no song-
I try in rereading
To feel their music,
But there is not much music in me now.
A poem at best should be a music all its own
I have no such music now-
If this is a poem, it is a lesser one.

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