SurreptitiouSly 
I Sound different 
In my voiSe
What can i Say or do 
but balanSe it all?
I have walked a hundred miles for your love
Such arduous trials

A PoetS MoSt GreateSt DeviCe ...

An honest poet can see poetry in anything 
— 
A false one, a sheep.
Poetry is not defined by |lineS— (or)—ruleS|
Only {urves,
Or bran{hes, like those of trees.
The time will come to Apply the wiSdom and toolS, which you were given,
But for me poems have been,
not a secret in my throat, but 
a siniSter curSe of poiSonouS gardens.