Pedometer

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Title:     Pedometer
Author: Christopher Morley [More Titles by Morley]

My thoughts beat out in sonnets while I walk,
And every evening on the homeward street
I find the rhythm of my marching feet
Throbs into verses (though the rhyme may balk.)
I think the sonneteers were walking men:
The form is dour and rigid, like a clamp,
But with the swing of legs the tramp, tramp, tramp
Of syllables begins to thud, and then--
Lo! while you seek a rhyme for _hook_ or _crook_
Vanished your shabby coat, and you are kith
To all great walk-and-singers--Meredith,
And Shakespeare, Wordsworth, Keats, and Rupert Brooke!
Free verse is poor for walking, but a sonnet--
O marvellous to stride and brood upon it!

[The end]
Christopher Morley's poem: Pedometer [sonnet]

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