If ever I was at a loss for words

Yet thought that words might be what should be used,

Or sought to frame a song as a blackbird

Who finds in sun and rain alike his muse

But failed, and left instead an empty page,

Like beer unbrewed or empty pipe unsmoked,

Unkindly you may say, just like the sage

Who smilingly refused to tell his joke,

If I should languish vacant on my couch

As poets of the past have oft described

Exhausted and unable now to vouch

 For thoughts or feelings I might hold inside,

A breath of air, a walk, a rustling leaf

Would vanquish listlessness, the poet's thief.

https://youtu.be/2G8LAiHSCAs