Poet: Madam, please, forgive my plea, I know,
it´s not within what´s suits to be, though,
I pray, do hear, it would be most kind of you
to lend an ear.
Madam: who are you, and what foul intrigues,
yet vague and loosely knit, do you intend with
such low and lousy wit?

P: I do presume I think of winks I tend to see
...my intensions, noble as they are, they glitter
fair, I do not hesitate to say, they glitter in your
eyes, they glitter, almost...square.

M: so, I aimed them well, those arrows, that my
eyes did spice; I postulate what´s solid and precise;
the prey they reached appears a shy and yearning goat!

P: if what you see is but a vain and ragged coat,
good, then your soul´s with mine betroathed.

Worse is, the verse I wrought to praise the Arts,
it has fallen...all apart...I stumbled...then fell,
from the sungod's cart. Pured by luck...there
were those arms...a treat to feel, not two but six
and each for me, you see, attached they were
to muses three; they might have known, I am
a poet prone!
Soon after, evidently in accord with precedures
of Parnassus´court, their deputy in charge,
a harp that suits their sort, implied, wrapped,
in vague context, a verse of praise, those muses
three of me expect; one for each and all shall
be the one, the single beam, that reach the
gods' esteem.
M: your homespun verse´s a gift to muse.
The ear in question, by you inquired, is now
for you awhile aquired, and, most eagerly your
craft aspires; my axioms are versatile, your verse
will me amuse!
P: so kind of you to grace me as I faults, your
persona finds my mind tiptoe, please, on which
foot of verse am I supposed to go?
My pace shall now be tamed; beat and tone will
naked meet yet feel no shame; empty phrases
turn to tellies as my verses fill their bellies;
verbs shall curl, allow themselves some ridicule;
I fix my hexameter, with its taximeter, no more
shady trix´! Read my words, from now my feet
will fit my foot, vice versa will become my meter!

M: that muses three by you demands tribute,
affirms itself by your pathetic ruse.
Your platitudes, they need a rude yet kind
provokateur, gives my mind, strange as it may
seems, a new and mild contour.
I´ll take you as a pledge, you come with me...
let´s go home; I want to be with you behind
my hedge...