Too many poets pack a line with thought
But melody refuses to take wing.
It’s not that meaning has been dearly bought:
It has been stifled, by a hankering
For portent, as if music meant too much.
Sidney called this a want of inward touch.

True poets should walk singing as they weep,
As Arnaut Daniel once epitomised;
But nothing written will be worth its keep
Composed by one who has not realised
This to be true, and tested his own song
On others, seeing if they listen long