Listen, the lullaby of alliteration,
well-poised formation of pentameters,
how consonants thrum as rhythmic breathing,
her vowels, languid purrs.
Listen to how the lilting tithes,
into hypnotic, soporific peeping,
as she wishes not to wake the world,
but to sing herself to sleeping.
For as nightingales do upon glow-worms feed, so poets live upon the living light. – Philip James Bailey