This rhyme’s not about a single thing,
No person, object, feeling.
Not the loveliness of a nascent spring,
Or anything you’ll find appealing.

It’s just strings of words along four lines,
With a slow propellant beat.
Small cabinet of shapes, designs,
With supporting metered feet.

It doesn’t refer to the sorts of themes,
Such lines might well convey.
So on life or love, joy, hope and dreams,
Has nothing here to say.